


Fred Lovegood (And Company) in the Warts on a Hog Years

by smolder



Series: Winifred Sola Lovegood [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 27,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolder/pseuds/smolder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuing adventures of Winifred Sola Lovegood and the people in her world. Growing up is never easy - even for the grown ups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby Boomers

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“Victoire?,” Millicent muttered quietly, but that didn’t hide her incredulity, “seriously, who but a Weasley names their kid Victoire. Why not just call her “Hey, Look We Won”, and get it over with. And what is that up to? Two Weasleys, one Potter, and one Lovegood this year? And the Lovegood girl is half Potter's as well. Was all that entire group did once the War was over was procreate?”

Dennis smirked into his cup and glanced down at the little blonde girl sitting on the stool with the Sorting Hat on her head. McGonagall was standing beside her (Padma might be the Deputy Headmistress now, but McGonagall still enjoyed doing these things that let her interact with the students). They were at the staff table at the front of the Great Hall so he doubted anyone could hear them but he talked quietly anyway.

“What do you expect Bulstrode, they’re your baby boomers. This sort of population explosion happens after every war,” he said.

She made a face, “At least I know I won’t have to deal with her. She’s a Weasley – that bunch always ends up in your House,” she crossed her arms.

“Slytherin!,” the Hat yelled.

He glanced over - Millicent’s face had gone slack with surprise, “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” she said.

Dennis cackled.

McGonagall glared disapprovingly and a confused Victoire Weasley glanced up at them before she wandered over to sit with her new House.


	2. Echo of Sentiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

They were usually so careful.

They tried to think of everything that might affect her – might cause one of her half dream memories to overwhelm her. But in the whirlwind of excitement leading up to Fred going off to Hogwarts they had not thought of this.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Are you alright, Lovegood?,” Professor Zabini asked his face actually scrunching up in concern. The whole class turned to stare at her.

All Fred could do was grip the table and shake her head at him with wide scared eyes. Her air seemed to catch harshly in her throat and she tried to hurry it out quicker and quicker.

Professor Zabini barked something at the class but she wasn’t paying attention and suddenly he was grabbing her arm, pulling her out the door. She couldn’t tell where they were going. It didn’t matter. She just needed to breathe. She started to scrabble at her collar – pulling at it uselessly. Her fingers usually able to dexterously take apart tiny machinery now numb and dull with shock and panic.

With a huff of frustration Professor Zabini swung her up in his arms and walked even faster (was he running?). Everything seemed to be very bright and sharp and traveling past her very quickly.

 _She couldn’t breathe._

Soon they were in another room so full of light it almost made her eyes hurt, but, any pain outside her throat and lungs hardly registered at this point. A lady forced a drink down her throat, she choked but managed to swallow some of it.

Instantly she was calmer. Now able to better control her hands, she forcibly took of her tie and threw it across the room and ripped her shirt open causing the top few of her buttons to scatter on the floor.

When she looked up Madam Pomfrey and Professor Zabini were staring at her.

“Well alright then”, her DADA teacher said dryly with a quirk of his lips, “you’re in good hands here. I’ll just go back and make sure no one has burned down the classroom yet. I suppose I’ll see you on Wednesday, Lovegood.”

She watched him leave before turning to the other woman, “Lovegood? You’re Winifred- Fred then. Ivy has told me a lot about you,” she said in a gently. “Now then,” her voice became more business like, “what was that about? I tested you for an allergic reaction or poison in your system but it seems as if I could have ruled that out just by how you acted once I got a Calming Draught in you. What set you off child?”

Fred bit her lip and looked down, “It’s the shirts,” she whispered, “and the ties. I’ve never been able to wear stuff right close to my neck like that – it makes me all panicky.” She didn’t add that it sure didn’t help that the tie was blue. Fred was happy to be in Ravenclaw, it was the House of her mother and she thought it suited her as well. But, to have something around her neck – _a collar_ – and to have it be blue. To be choked by blue? It hadn’t helped the situation.)

“Did something traumatic happen to you?,” Madam Pomfrey asked in a business like way but when Fred looked up she could see the compassion in her eyes.

“No, no,” she reassured the woman, “it’s just always been like that. Turtleneck sweaters, scarves, choker necklaces ( _not a cow, not a cow, not a cow_ ),” she tried to smile through the pain in her chest from both breathing too hard and the thoughts in her head, “I’ve just never been able to wear them. I guess Mommy, Draco-dragon, and I just really didn’t take into consideration the uniform here with the button up shirts and the,” her eyes settled on the small innocent looking pile of fabric on the floor, “ties.” she ended in a whisper.

The lady studied her for a moment, “How about this,” she said eventually, going over to her cabinet, grabbing some vials, and then scooping the tie off the floor. Madam Pomfrey sat down on the edge of the cot. “When you put on your uniform don’t button the very top – it will probably stay mostly hidden by your tie anyway”, Fred nodded. “And when you put on your tie”, Fred tensed and she felt her breath catch as she looked at the blue and bronze fabric in the other witches hand, “have you ever heard of the Sticking Charm, dear?”

The question broke her out of her rebuilding panic, “Yeah,” Fred said grinning, “I read all of the books for this year before we got here. My Aunt Hermione wrote most of ‘em. The Sticking Charm is the one that makes an object stay in place.”

Madam Pomfrey smiled in amusement, “Yes, now I know this is your first day so you haven’t had a chance to do it in class yet. We’re going to try it out now.”

She tied the tie in a knot around her wrist and showed Fred the charm then reversed it. The first time Fred tried it, it didn’t work. The second time it stuck to the sheet they were both sitting on. Finally, after many attempts, she got it right so that the fabric stuck to itself – so that the knot didn’t move.

“Good,” the Healer said. “Now, when you put your tie on, do the Sticking Charm on the knot. That way you know in your _mind_ at least that it is going to stay in place - that it is not going to hurt you. And remember you reverse it with Finite Incantation. _You_ do this Fred, _you_ have control over _this_ ,” she handed Fred back her tie.

Fred took it keeping her eyes locked on Madam Pomfrey. “Also,” the woman said reaching behind her, “take these,” she gave the girl some vials, “they’re more Calming Draughts. Like I gave you when you came in. If you ever start to feel like you can’t breathe like you did in Professor Zabini’s classroom take one of these _before_ it gets so bad that someone has to force it down your throat.”

Fred smiled weakly and closed her hands feeling the cool glass clink together and be cushioned somewhat by the fabric of her tie. She started to get off the bed, but the woman touched her arm gently.

“Remember, you can always come here if you need to. If you’re hurt, if you feel “panicky”. This is a safe place,” her eyes were steady and her voice was deadly serious.

“Caritas,” Fred murmured. The word – the echo of sentiment and feeling - had drifted through her almost before she could catch it. A safe place. She had a safe place in the castle.

“What was that?,” the distinguished lady asked tilting her head in concern.

“Nothing,” Fred shook her head and held her things tightly as she scurried off the bed. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” she said with a bright smile and slipped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: The collar stuff is, of course, referring to Fred's time in Pylea where (before she was able to get away from her captors and remove it) she was forced to wear what basically came down to a metal shock collar.   
> Caritas was the name of Lorne's bar, it had anti-violence spell on it and was meant to be a safe place for everyone: human, demon, etc.


	3. Strange and Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Chapter title is also a song title of the band Aqualung.

“You know something isn’t right,” Albus whispered.

“Hmmm…….,” his twin inquired from her position lying on her stomach in the grass letting a caterpillar crawl on her finger.

“Mom and Dad,” Albus whispered fiercely holding his book tightly his eyes darting around to make sure no one else was listening in. He wished he was in his room, he always felt so vulnerable outside. But if he was in the house his mom might hear.

“Well, of course silly,” Lily said in that usual dreamy way of hers that always made what she said sound like the most obvious thing in the entire world, “they love other people.”

“Mom and Dad are married,” he defended feebly, “they do to love each other.”

“I never said they didn’t _love_ each other, Al” Lily said her tone of voice not changing in the slightest. She rolled over onto her back holding the finger with the caterpillar on in safely away from her as she did, “but it’s not because they’re married. It’s because they’re friends.”

“But that’s a good thing,” he said desperately, “it’s good that they’re friends."

She tilted her head and smiled sadly at him, “Haven’t you seen how Hugo and Rose’s parents act? Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron are friends and they are in love with each other too. Mommy and Daddy don’t have both. Not with each other.”

“They still sleep in the same bed!,” he threw out wildly. “They have to be together if they still sleep together.”

Lily giggled and let the caterpillar climb off her finger as she answered, “You know that doesn’t mean anything. We’ve slept in the same bed sometimes, especially when we were littler.”

With the insect off her finger she sat up and faced her twin, “You already knew all of this Al, didn’t you?,” she whispered.

He looked down. This was why he wanted to have this conversation with her; she could admit the things they had both seen. Say the words that got stuck in his head, in his throat.

She crawled forward on her knees across the grass and hugged him headless of his book that was now pressing into both of their ribs.

“It won’t be so bad, Albus,” she whispered in his ear. “I know the feelings are confusing but all it means is that there will be lots more people to love. And Mommy and Daddy will be happy.”

When she sat back the ‘Return of the King’ fell into her lap and she giggled. He smiled at her, “How come _you’re_ so ok with this? You know James is going to find it a bit crazy if our parents ever get around to telling us.”

Lily smiled that dreamy smile that made Mommy call her Lil’Luna and shrugged, “I like weird.”


	4. Living In Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

They weren’t getting married.

They weren’t even planning on doing so in the future. Draco doesn’t know how being forced to do a family favor by his mother turned into dancing in the living room. And then that somehow transformed into coming back home to the Lovegood place instead of the Manor every night after work.

When this, when _they_ became home.

Luna, Fred, Teddy, and him - it felt good, felt right, felt comfortable in a way he couldn’t begin to explain. When he tried he would end up feeling confused and inadequate (after all his family did – and to _her_ personally – how could she still….) and almost as if she could sense it Luna would be there and wrap her arms around him. Her warmth making him forget why he had been worried in the first place.

But they aren’t getting married. Neither of them particularly wants to. Luna teases that she has spent this long being seen as a “scarlet woman” for having Harry Potter’s baby that she certainly doesn’t mind “living in sin” with the man she loves. He always teases her back that since this is her house technically _he_ is the one “living in sin” with _her_.

And him, well, Draco doesn’t want her to have the Malfoy name. Doesn’t want that name to lay claim to anything else in his life that is important to him. Threaten it. Luna and Fred are Lovegoods (crazy, accepting, quirky, wonderful Lovegoods) and that is (one of the many reasons) why he loves them.

So he will ignore his mother’s prodding for marriage and a Malfoy heir. Because even though he sure as hell is going to leave everything he has _earned_ to this family he has made for himself, he is _not_ going to _brand_ them with that name.


	5. Wishing and Hoping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

James has heard things about his father (and seen them printed in the papers) for as long as he can remember. The Boy Who Lived. The Hero. The Chosen One. The man who drunkenly slept with and then had a child with his wife’s best friend.

He loves his Dad but he feels like he lives a triple life. There is the Harry Potter for public, the Daddy Harry Potter, and then there is another Harry Potter that is him completely but he tries to keep secret - except that Dad really isn’t good at that sort of thing. He knows the twins have noticed that their parents aren’t telling them everything. And not just _not_ telling them everything (all parents do that), not talking to them about important things.

He really wants to talk about it to someone. But the twins have each other and they complement each other so well that even though they are all so close in age, he often feels like he’s intruding when their together.

And James has seen all of the drama around his half-sister. How his father was theirs, and theirs alone, when he was little and then suddenly he was split in two – the Daddy of _two_ families. And James knows it’s wrong, and knows this is like sharing his toys - but incredibly much _much_ more so. Horribly more important. Because _everyone_ needs a Dad.

But a part of him doesn’t like that he has to share now.

Then there were the holiday dinners at the Burrow, where his father would awkwardly try to bring both of his two families together. Grandma Molly would act like she wasn’t even in the room and pinch her lips in disapproval whenever anyone called her Fred.

And Fred isn’t the only place he has to share his Dad away from his family. Or Mom. They talk about their days over the dinner table – probably thinking it’s some kind of code – and it’s always about the same people. And when the twins and him spend the night at Grandma's or a friend’s house _they __don’t spend that time with each other - _they_ have sleepovers with “friends” as well. As if _anybody_ didn’t know what that meant. _

They’re both _so_ bad at being sneaky.

But they’re also both _happier_ then he remembers them being when he was little. And that’s good and all. He wants his parents to be happy. It’s just….

More than anything he wishes his parents would just talk to him. Stop thinking that being 11 means that you’re blind or stupid or something. He wants to know the why’s behind what they’re doing because all he knows now is what he sees.

And what he _sees_ is his family split so many different ways it hurts for him to look at it sometimes.


	6. I'll Write You Harmonies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a lyric by the band Metric.

Hermione wasn’t trying to be nosey. It was just he had been sitting there staring at the owl from Rose for fifteen minutes now. She knew that that was a letter from Rose to her Daddy so she was trying not to pry. But, it contained so many things she wanted to know: was she settling in alright? Had she made any friends yet? Where had she been Sorted?

And it didn’t help that Ron was staring at it looking absolutely gobsmacked.

Finally, she couldn’t help it anymore and marched over to stand in front of the chair in which Ron was sitting in the living room. “What does it say, Ron?” she demanded.

He looked up startled and then blinked twice as if he was coming out of a bad dream. He glanced at the letter one last time then looked up at her and smiled in a self deprecating manner. “You know how I gave Bill a bit of flack when V was the first Wesley to be sorted into Slytherin?,” he asked rhetorically. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to apologize,” he waved his hand with the note from his daughter half-heartedly.

As the implications hit her she bit her lip hard not to straight up cackle in his face. ‘Gave Bill a bit of flack’ was rather an understatement. Whenever V wasn’t around (Ron would never want the girl to think for a second that her Uncle didn’t love her) he had ribbed his brother mercilessly. This, this, was kind of perfect.

Hugo being sorted into Gryffindor was not unexpected. Although, personally, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been placed in Hufflepuff either – she supposed his urge to _protect_ his family just topped his insane _loyalty_ to those he dubbed his family.

Rose, well Rose had always been a difficult child for her to connect to. Hermione was a girl, yes - but Rose, was a decidedly _girly_ girl. And while her relationship with Ron had taught her she could be womanly and feminine (two things she had not thought herself capable of when she was younger) that was _very_ different than being girly. Rose liked tea parties, dolls, clothes – things that most little girls tended to like.

Things that left Hermione baffled.

She tried. She set up tea parties and sleepovers with Fred and Ivy – girl time (although poor Fred seemed nearly as baffled as her). And when she got older Hermione got her books about fashion – she despised the assumption that because of her interest her little girl was somehow unintelligent. Rose was smart as a whip – just in different ways. Rose could name almost any type of fabric with barely a touch, was fascinated by the way clothing style had changed over time, the cyclical nature of fashion trends. Just because she had different interests didn’t mean she didn’t _know_ things – Hermione would fight anyone who said differently.

But in many ways, she was Daddy’s little girl. Rose knew how to milk a pout to get out of trouble with Ron. And she had separate clothes for Practice.

Practice. It was uppercased.

Rose might be a girly girl, but she didn’t mind getting dirty for a good reason. And Quidditch, was deemed a good reason by her. It really wasn’t surprising, Hermione supposed, that both Hugo and Rose became just as crazy about the team and the sport as Ron had been. What, with their father being assistant Coach to the Chudley Cannons and all.

Oh, the games. It was going to be a _nightmare_ when they played, more for Ron then for the kids. Because she knew that whenever he was in town he was coming to his kid’s games and he would be so torn as to who to root for. This year would be easy enough since Rose couldn’t try out until her 2nd year (and it was more than just being their mother, instantly assuming they would be on the team like this. Hugo, like his father, was a Keeper. But, unlike Ron was patient and steady in goal – kept his eyes everywhere for the coming quaffle but didn’t panic. Rose was a quick and fierce Chaser, always making him fight to protect and trying to sneak points whenever possible.).

Rooting for a Gryffindor game was easy for him - Gryffindor was where his boy and Harry’s were. Where generation of his family had gone. But could he get himself to scream in support for Slytherin – the house he had detested since youth.

The house his little girl _and_ another Weasley child (because Merlin knew V was trying out, too) were probably playing for.

And what about the games they played against each other – already contentious - would now be Weasley vs. Weasley. Her kids could handle it. Hugo was amazingly level headed and Rose adored her big brother. But poor, _Ron_.

Without meaning to, her lips twitched and she let out an un-lady like snort. He narrowed his eyes at her. She quickly tried to smooth out her face.

“I suppose we’ll have to make up a “Go Slytherin!” sign, paint our faces green and silver, and all that for the games,” she said in her most reasonable sympathetic voice. The way his face dropped as the Quidditch side of things hit him was comical and she couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer.

Ron sent her a glare coupled with a wounded pout which set her off harder. He let the letter slip to the floor and snagged her belt loops tugging her gently towards him. She went easily, sitting in his lap while still trying to stop her giggling.

“Laugh it up, Hermione,” he muttered resting their foreheads together, “but when they come home with stick figures and dirty jokes scribbled all over the textbooks _you_ wrote, I’ll be the one tittering.” His lips finally dropped the pout and twitched into a reluctant grin as well.

Still smiling, Hermione leaned the small distance left between them and kissed her husband. She always loved kissing Ron. It was like coming up for air after being underwater. Like curling up just a bit too close to a fireplace so that you could feel the intensity of the heat. Like coming to the end of a book with a satisfying conclusion, but knowing this was only part of a series – still so much left to explore. So, many many metaphors that just meant good, challenging, warm, exciting and home. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

“So now that we have a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, do you want to try for a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff next? Go for the complete set?,” Ron asked against her lips when they broke apart.

“Ron!,” she chided slapping his arm. But, she was laughing along with the chuckles she could feel as much as hear coming from him as close as they were.

And she wouldn’t want it any other way.


	7. Coming Clean Means Never Closing Curtains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a lyric by Brandi Carlilie.

“Does it make me a bad person that I’m happy Christmas break is over and my kids finally went back to Hogwarts again?,” Harry asked into Seamus’ shirt from his position curled up half on top the other man.

Seamus chuckled and Harry could feel it reverberate through him, “Probably. But, if you are, than every other parent who came in my pub is, too. I can’t tell you how many of them were complaining about their own little devils.”

Harry smiled fleetingly. “It’s just I miss this,” he said tilting his head so that he could make eye contact, his glasses shifting uncomfortably against his face, “I can’t come over here at night when they’re at home. I have to stay at the house. And, don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with my kids.... And...,” he bit his lip, “I think they might know something,” he whispered, “about you and me. And Ginny, Angelina and Katie probably, too.”

Unexpectedly Seamus laughed, “I’m not surprised at all. Your kids aren’t stupid Harry and you suck at lying. I couldn’t stay your dirty little secret forever.”

Harry stiffened and since he was practically blanketing the man’s right side, Seamus noticed. He sighed and ran a hand down his back, “Harry,” he started.

“I don’t see you that way,” he cut in before he could begin, refusing to make eye contact.

“Harry,” he repeated bringing his other hand to the side of his face so that he had to look up. “I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t bother me – I’m _not_ going to lie to you.” He was looking at him intently, “I know why you’re both doing it this way, yes. But do I prefer it, no.”

Harry relaxed and leaned up slightly kissing the other man. When they broke apart he let his head flop back down on Seamus’ chest. “I just, I don’t want my kids to get hurt,” he whispered. He had already made so many mistakes with Fred – he didn’t want to…

He remembered how the reporters had written things about Hermione and him when they were only 14 during the Tournament. How Rita Skeeter had cornered him and pulled him into a closet to question him – on school grounds. What had been in the papers about Luna when she got pregnant by him. The way the paparazzi hounded his family constantly whenever they went out _even now_. The questions that were screamed at Fred when they went out in public together – about her, her mother, and Draco. What would they do if they do if they realized that the fairy tale relationship of the Boy Who Lived and the girl who was one of the leaders of Dumbledore’s Army (and the sister of one of the Golden Trio) wasn’t quite so storybook? He couldn’t do that to his kids.

“I know, Harry,” Seamus said pulling him closer, “I know.”


	8. No Instruction Manual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Pansy answered the knock without thinking, when she saw the child she wished she hadn’t.

“Hello, Ms. Pansy,” the red headed boy said politely, “is my Uncle in?”

“Of course he is,” she snapped, “I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. I’m not dependent. I have my own place.”

He looked at her of utter confusion, “I didn’t think you didn’t, Ms. Pansy. I just wanted to talk to my Uncle. Unless this is a bad time,” he added.

Pansy made a face. She was being confrontational with someone who wasn’t even trying to attack her - a boy who wasn’t even a teenager yet by the look of it. Damn, she probably needed to learn to tell all the Weasley brood apart at some point.

She knew from Gabrielle that Percy caught flack from his family for dating her. Pansy herself never went to any of his family’s gatherings as his girlfriend, even though he invited her. And sometimes it bothered her that he never pushed. That he never demanded, bribed or made ultimatums. Was he respecting her choices or did he not really want her there _that_ badly? It was confusing to Pansy because he was so very unlike everyone else in her life with whom it was natural to use whatever means necessary to get what they wanted.

And she shouldn’t care what he thought. What his family thought. She should be above that - beyond it, _whatever_. That was what having her own business was about - being beholden to _no one_. Not caring what anyone else though of her.

But, but _she did_. She _did_ care. And she fucking hated it.

Because Percy might understand. Percy, who had spent the entire War working for a corrupt Ministry – part of it happily so. He had no cause to throw stones from his glass house and he had never tried. Had listened to her story and her reasoning because he understood. Understood that sometimes you get caught up with people, with ambition, with what you _think_ is right at the time (because there is never any way to know for sure – there is no huge instruction manual for life).

But his family – the rest of the Weasleys? Yeah, not so much.

“No, no come in,” she told the kid reluctantly. “He’s in the shower. He’ll be out in a minute.”

He came through the entryway and they both stood around awkwardly. Pansy realized she couldn’t keep calling him “the boy” in her head so she asked, “Which one are you?”

“What?,” he asked startling somewhat from his bored perusal of the room.

She gave an irritated sigh, “Which Weasley are you?,” she clarified.

“Oh, I’m Hugo,” he said.

“Ron and Hermione’s kid,” she said more of a question then a statement.

“That’s right,” Hugo said looking vaguely amused.

There was another long awkward pause. This is why I don’t do the family things Pansy thought to herself. It was like taking her bad people skills and multiplying them by….the number of Weasley’s she had to deal with.

Which was a number that probably grew every year.

“You want a drink?,” she snapped sounding more angry then she meant to. Then she realized how what she had asked (to a very clearly underage kid) had sounded and she scrunched up her face again. “I mean…”

“Gillywater would be nice if you have it,” Hugo cut in helpfully.

Pansy actually smiled at him before she headed for the kitchen area.

“The idiot never has anything. He thinks he can run on stuffiness and pudding or some such rot. But, I always make sure he has Gillywater,” she tossed Hugo a smirk as she rooted around the cupboard, “it mixes well with vodka.”

She found a bottle and took out her wand to cool it down and pop off the top before handing it to the boy – Hugo.

“Thank you,” he said taking a sip.

Pansy stared, “Do they grow you polite?,” she asked incredulously.

Hugo chuckled, “Are you sure you’ve met _all_ of the Weasleys?” he asked dryly.

Pansy snorted. A sarcastic one – who would have thought it? And from what Percy had said there were two Slytherin Weasleys now as well. Maybe she _could_ worm (or more aptly, snake) her way into this family.


	9. Sticks and Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

James hadn’t meant to let it get as far as it did.

It was just - she was _always_ there.

She came first, was born first, and maintaining a relationship with her had become such an obvious priority to his father. And the twins were the youngest and needed extra care and watching over - he understood that. But it left him in an odd awkward place, where he _would_ have been firstborn in his family – if she hadn’t been born outside it.

And at school everyone knew. Everyone knew she was Harry Potter’s illegitimate kid and her mother was now living with Draco Malfoy ( _the_ Draco Malfoy, almost as infamous as his own Dad) - but it didn’t seem to bother her one bit. In classes he tried to make his parents proud and do good (and at least Gryffindor wasn’t paired with Ravenclaw so he didn’t see her _constantly_ ) but she was beating him in everything except Potions. And she didn’t even seem to be trying – didn’t even seem to _notice_ they were competing.

But Quidditch, Quidditch was supposed to be _his_ thing. _She_ had the book smarts. And all of the older family members except for Grandma seemed to be on _her_ side (yes, he could tell there were sides). _She_ had taken all of _his_ cousins – made friends with them first. And now she even had Albus in _her_ House and where Albus went, so went Lily (and vice versa – it didn’t matter that Lils was a Huffle).

Didn’t he at least deserve Quidditch as something to show his father and everybody else that he was worth something – better than her at _something_? But of course not. She played Quidditch, too. A beater against his chaser. Had been taught by _his_ Uncle George. And when Mom and Dad came to see the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match it wasn’t just to root for him. It was to see _both_ of them.

So, he was angry.

And when one of the other Gryffindor chasers was injured by _her_ bludger and a time out was called by Madame Hooch while Madame Pompfrey was called to come tend to the broken bone (not a serious or uncommon occurrence in Quidditch). No one was over looking both grounded teams on the side lines and they were standing close bad mouthing each other. Some of the words were vicious (and used a lot of vocabulary he didn’t understand – they were Ravenclaws after all). But it was _him_ who was angry for a personal reason, _him_ who crossed the line.

Him who hissed, “Breaking bones like your mother tried to break up marriages, eh Lovegood?” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he was wrong – what he said wasn’t even accurate. And the effect was immediate: a hush went over both teams, Hugo was staring at him like he didn’t recognize him, and Fred….

Fred’s face quicksilver registered shock and betrayal before anger set in. Then she threw her broom and beater's bat to the ground and pounced on him taking them both to the ground. She got quite a few good punches to his face before she was pulled off.

 

***

 

Madame Pomfrey, already on the field, was able to take care of most of the damage before bruising even set in. But, sitting awkwardly in the Headmistresses office surrounded by his parents, Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Malfoy, and Fred (who had refused treatment claiming her hand was fine since it was already wrapped in tape for the game). Well, the uncomfortable feeling in his face was probably only partially due to the remaining swelling in his jaw and the sensitivity if his magically healed busted lip.

“So,” Headmistress McGonagall asked coming in the door from where she had stayed to oversee the rest of the game after they both had been thrown out. She sat at her desk in front of them and seemed to stare at them all at the same time with her feline eyes, “what happened here?”

When no one answered she turned to Fred who was running her fingers over the blood specks on the tape that was still on her hand ( _his_ blood – her blood too maybe, they were the same at least partially so he realized with a start).

“You were the one to physically assault another student, Ms. Lovegood. Would you please explain your actions,” it was a request but it sounded more like a command. Fred slowly looked up from her knuckles to the Headmistress then she glanced over at him, her eyes still burning like earlier. But, she stayed quiet.

“Very, well,” McGonagall said after the long silence. “Attacking another student is a serious offense. If you are not going to explain yourself, you will serve detention for a month and I will be forced to take you off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team,” she watched everyone’s reactions closely.

“What!-..“ Harry exclaimed leaning forward in his chair.

“You can’t!...,” Draco demanded and Luna grabbed his arm to calm him down and keep him from standing up.

Ginny was watching her son, “It’s my fault,” James whispered.

“It’s my fault!,” he said again louder trying to get everyone’s attention (wasn’t he always) over their own screaming .

When all eyes turned towards him he tried to breathe evenly and not feel intimidated.

“How is it your fault, Mr. Potter?,” McGonagall asked. His father’s head swiveled towards her – what seemed to be an almost automatic reaction and the Headmistress’ lips twitched slightly. “For once I don’t mean you, Harry.”

Mr. Malfoy laughed at him and his father glared, but, he could see his mother trying not to smile as well. Only Ms. Lovegood seemed effortlessly serene, which made what he was going to say that much harder.

“I-“ James swallowed, “I said something bad and wrong to Fred,” she glanced up at him meeting his eyes. “And I’m sorry,” he whispered. Fred bit her lip and looked down.

“I’m not sorry I hit, ya,” she said tracing her bloodied knuckles again, “you kinda deserved it. But I do forgive you,” she glanced up and smiled at him faintly and he felt as if a hippogriff had finally stopped sitting on his chest.

“As stirring as this all is,” Mr. Malfoy said dryly and James startled slightly – he had forgotten about the adults involved here for a minute, “I still have no clue as to what Potter’s kid actually said to get our Fred all riled up. She’s never punched _anyone_ before.”

“I must admit a certain curiosity myself. Although I appreciate that you have reconciled your differences these types of actions and reactions cannot be permitted within my school. To properly punish both of you I need to know something a little more concrete about what was said then that it was “bad and wrong,”” McGonagall stated adjusting her glasses.

James’ eyes automatically darted to Fred’s again.

“There was some trash talk goin’ on from both teams,” Fred tried to help him out.

“And then I said something,” he looked down at his feet “something that wasn’t even true. About,” he finished in a shamed whisper, “about her mother.”

The quite in the room was deafening.

He dared to glance up and the first thing he noticed was the way Mr. Malfoy was glaring at him, Ms. Lovegood whispering in his ear soothingly and shooting him _sympathetic_ glances. He really did not understand that woman.

But then his eyes shifted to his parents. And oh, Mr. Malfoy’s anger paled in comparison to his Mom and Dad.

“You said something about Luna,” his Mother stood up and looked down at him, obviously keeping her voice level with an effort. He reluctantly nodded his head. He knew whatever trouble he got in at school was nothing compared to this. Luna was his Mom’s best friend. She had made Lily’s middle name Luna.

“What did you say?,” his father asked not getting up from the chair, but, clutching its arms tightly and watching him sharply from behind his glasses - and that was just as bad.

“It doesn’t matter,” Fred tried to defend him from her seat, “it wasn’t even true anyway.”

His Dad glanced at her his face softening somewhat, “That’s what makes it even worse,” he turned back to James. “You know the drivel that people say about us. We don’t spread it about others. About family,” he stressed.

James nodded keeping his head down.

“I have heard enough to make a decision about my own punishments,” McGonagall cut into the drama smoothly and James let out a breath. “You are free to use one of the empty classrooms to talk later,” he swallowed hard.

“As I see it,” the Headmistress said folding her hands, “you are both in the wrong. Yes, James should never have said what he did, but, Fred, you need to learn restraint. People, as you have already learned in your life,” she gave the young girl a knowing glance, “will say many things, you cannot always react with violence.”

“But sometimes she can?,” Mr. Malfoy muttered a bit too loud to be actually whispering and James tried not to giggle in his nervousness.

“So,” McGonagall continued as if nothing had been said, “you will both have detention every evening for 3 weeks and 50 points will be removed from both your Houses. But,” she held up a finger, “you will be allowed to continue playing Quidditch. Just no more violence.” She considered what she said for a second. “No undue violence outside the game,” she amended smiling slightly.

“Now,” she continued, “why don’t you allow the children to go to lunch in the Great Hall. We can dine together and catch up and then you can speak again before you leave,” she suggested.

James held his breath as his parents took a minute before giving in. Maybe, after a bit of time, they would have cooled off some. He watched Fred easily hug her mother and joke with Mr. Malfoy before throwing her arms around him as well.

His own parents turned to him. His mother grabbed the sides of his face gently, turning it from side to side to look for any lingering injuries. Then she looked into his eyes intently for a long moment, “We _will_ be talking about this later,” she said seriously. Then she let go of his head and hugged him. James held on hard for a second grabbing the back of her shirt in his fist and trying to soak up comfort. This day had been crazy – his fault, sure – but crazy none the less.

When she let go his father was there (her father, too) to pull him into a quick hug and ruffle his already crazy hair. “You were playing good before the time out,” he said, “really good flying.”

James felt like something in him was glowing, “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

“But this, this kind of behavior,” he shook his head, “Merlin, James, she’s your sister. Would you talk to Lily like that? I know the same sort of words wouldn’t apply,” he said with a frown, “but the meanness the anger?”

He pictured Lily looking up at him her usually happy innocent face and wide eyes clouding over with the shock and betrayal he had seen run across Fred’s before she had gotten mad. It made him feel sick.

“No,” he shook his head appalled, “I would _never_ say anything like that to Lily.”

“Then you shouldn’t to Fred,” his father said putting a hand on his shoulder again. “Now, head on to lunch. We’ll talk more later.”

“Yes, Dad. Mom. Later. Love you,” he murmured stumbling over his words as well as his feet as he headed out the door and down the stairs.

When he got to the hallway he found that Fred had waited for him. He bit his lip and his eyes darted down to her hand again. Their _shared_ blood on her knuckles – his _sister_.

James met her eyes, “I really am sorry,” he whispered. “We both know it wasn’t anywhere near true. We both know,” he swallowed thickly but kept eye contact, “that there’s not really much of a real marriage there to break up anyway.”

She continued to stare for a long moment that made him increasingly nervous. Then abruptly she smiled and hooked her arm around his, “Don’t sweat it, Peaches,” she said cheerily hip checking him slightly, “at least they didn’t take away our Quidditch.”

James turned his head and made a face at her as she towed him along towards the Great Hall. Merlin, his sister was crazy, but, at least she wasn’t mad at him.

She had a mean right hook.


	10. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

He had tried making excuses about leaving a book in the teacher’s lounge. He had tried telling her he was going to slip down to the kitchens to grab a snack. However many times Oliver kept trying to distance himself from the woman she just kept following him.

“And then Padma told me that her class has been acting just fine. Which, I don’t know - is she messing with me just to rile me up? Or are the 3rd years really not acting out for her because she’s Padma and you know how _Padma_ is. She could calm down a raging bull just by giving it a slightly disappointed unimpressed look. Or maybe…”

“I’m just going to…..,” Oliver began.

“I am well aware you been trying to extract yourself from this conversation Oliver,” Parvati stated stopping him from lying.

“And I’ve seen you do it for years now. At first I thought you were just settling in and were nervous. I mean, _I_ certainly was. And then I wasn’t sure what was going on with you. _Then_ I thought it was just me – that you just hated me for some reason and I couldn’t figure out why. But, I watched you Oliver,” she looked directly into his eyes with her dark ones, “and you do it with everyone. So, then I just tried to be patient. But it’s been years and I’m tired of being patient. I don’t think patience is actually as good of a virtue as everyone seems to think it is."

"Tell me why, Oliver,” she demanded.

He stared at her and breathed hard - he felt trapped, pinned in place by her concerned stare and unexpected questioning.

“Is it because of that night, Oliver?” she whispered.

And something in him seemed to snap. He dropped all pretense of cheery attitude he had been clinging to for so long while in the public eye, “Of course it is, Patil,” he hissed at her vehemently.

“Do not talk to me in that tone, Wood,” she said very slowly, blazing back at him cool instead of hot. And, oh, how he could see the similarities between the twins in their anger. “Do not speak as if you were the only one there.”

He was instantly contrite. “I’m-I’m sorry Parvati. I just can’t be like everyone else,” he tried to explain running a hand through his hair in frustration, “I can’t forget.”

“They haven’t all forgotten,” she contested.

His face must have shown his disbelief because she quickly added, “Well, not _all_ of us. Not the ones of us that really matter.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You’re not getting the point anyway. It’s not about forgetting that night and those people. How could any of us ever who where there forget?,” her sad smile was so much different than the one she wore every day. “It’s about not making _that night_ the only thing you ever remember. The only thing you ever think about. The thing that blocks you from making any _new_ memories.”

He stared at her intently, hating that her words were making so much sense. “I carried their bodies,” he said in a voice that seemed distant from himself. “They were”, he swallowed, “they were so _small_. They were – you all – were still students Parvati, _kids_. The same age as those I teach now,” he breathed harshly.

“And-and I still haven’t gotten up the courage to talk to Dennis about his brother,” he confessed.

“Oliver,” she touched his arm gently causing him make eye contact again, “keeping their memories alive doesn’t mean staying where they fell - reliving it all each time you walk these halls. _You_ didn’t die that night, _you_ can leave here sometimes - _you_ can live.”

He turned away from her. Maybe she wouldn’t be so convincing if he wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t deserve to leave. It would have been better if he had been the one to die anyway. Better him then Remus or Tonks; then at least that boy he could now see walking the halls (with his father’s facial features and his mother’s hair) would have had parents. Or Fred, than George wouldn’t have lost his twin. Or Colin – _so light in his arms. Why were so many of them that fought in the War still children?_

He would have switched places with any of them that had died that day.

He tensed when he felt her touch his back, “Oliver,” she asked even more delicately then she had said anything yet, “how long has it been since you flew?”

Oh, oh that was a low blow. Did she know? Did she know how much he missed it? He never understood how people didn’t like Quidditch, but it was unimaginable to him that some people didn’t like flying. It was every child’s dream - the wind speeding past you, going faster and faster, higher and higher. It was freedom.

Oliver hadn’t gotten on a broom since before the Battle of Hogwarts.

How could he? How could he loose himself in the serenity of the air when they would never again leave the ground?

She took his silence for an answer. She rounded him so he had to look at her again. She placed her hands on his upper arms and he twitched slightly distracted for a moment. Parvati was always a very tactile person with those she was comfortable with.

“You need to stop denying yourself everything just because you think, for some reason, that you don’t deserve it. Why _shouldn’t_ you deserve it, Oliver? Who is saying you don’t? Who among those that fell would actually deny you these things that you’re denying yourself?,” she demanded her nails digging into his skin a bit though his robes.

Oliver watched her breathing slightly hard after her spirited rant. Suddenly, he grabbed her face and kissed her.

“Oh,” Parvati said when it ended, “oh my.” She brought both hands up to cover her mouth, a flush was spreading across her lovely deep skin.

“That – with you,” Oliver stumbled over his words fisting his hands in his robes at his sides part out of nerves and part just to stop himself from touching her again, “is one of the things I have been denying myself.”

She stared at him with large stunned eyes.

“Parvati,” he said trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, “say something, _please_.”

Her eyes squinting with determination was the only half second warning he got before her hands flew away from her mouth and grabbed his collar. And then he was kissing the beautiful Parvati Patil again like he had thought about for far too long.

And then he wasn’t.

He opened his eyes at the loss of her to find her staring once more. “Oh my,” she said again and this time he had to smile at the use of the phrase. She darted towards the door. “I have to talk to my sister,” she explained rapidly as she went, “I wasn’t expecting this at all, you see.”

At the last minute when she was in the doorway, she glanced back at him for a second and bit her lip. Then she ran back and threw herself at him kissing him again with her whole body pressed against his this time. And in his head he couldn’t help but pleasantly echo her _Oh my_.


	11. Beginning of Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Montgomery knew that compared to his friends he had had an easy life. They never tried to use it against him or make him feel bad or anything, but his life had been pretty standard. Loving parents that had lived away from the hardest hit areas during the war. Only child. Lots of relatives including super cool Uncle Lee who took him to games whenever he was around. And was with Uncle George who owned Weasleys' Wizard Weezes. (His favorite Uncle was with someone who owned a joke shop and always gave him tons of things from the store for gifts? He knew he was supposed to be weirded out that they were both guys or something, but come on - how awesome was that?)

The only notable thing about him really was that he had a really long - weird for a kid - hard to shorten first name.

When he was a baby they tried calling him Monty, which apparently didn’t work very long. Something he didn’t understand until he got older and wondered how many inappropriate jokes his parents and their friends were making about him before he could even interpret language.

The other half of his name - Gomery was tried next. But, his young toddler tongue couldn’t handle how it all seemed to run together so that attempt at a nickname was quickly axed as well.

When he was in Primary school they tried Mon for a bit. He hated it. It sounded like money. And yes, his parents were pureblood and wealthy but that didn’t mean they were snooty. After he refused to answer to it (which probably hadn’t helped the snooty perception), that name was dropped as well.

When he hit Hogwarts and made new friends the process started again. Teddy (whose name already was a prepackaged nickname) latched on to him instantly and they became best mates. Bullshitting in the Gryffindor common room and mock-announcing the Quidditch games to each other. They ignored the by-the-books commentator in favor of their own observations and running jokes about players (they both knew the game inside and out, they just had no interest in actually _playing_ ).

And his friend and fellow Gryffindor was determined to solve his moniker problem once and for all. Other than the usual there were attempts with Yremogtnom ( _spelling my name backwards isn’t a nickname_ ), Mr. T ( _I’m pureblood and even I’m disappointed in you for that Muggle cultural reference. I’m going to let Ms. Hermione know not to let you watch her television anymore_ ), the Gom Meister ( _wow, Teddy, really, now_ ), Mountie ( _I’ve never even been to Canada_ ) and MoGo ( _yeah, just, no_ ). For about a week, Teddy even decided to call him Montana, which was hardly shorter than his real name and didn’t make any sense – but that was Teddy.

He pondered whether or not to just go my M like Victorie’s - V, but that just seemed like copycatting (plus, Hugo told him about the 007 movies). Honestly, the whole process was just frustrating.

He scowled and tapped his quill against his scroll, deep in thought.

“You’re spreadin’ ink all over your Charms homework, Montgomery,” Fred said stopping his tapping with her hand and sitting down in the chair besides him.

He smiled, _she_ had never tried to call him anything other than his full name.

“What’s gotcha thinkin’ so hard?” she asked curiously getting her things out of her bag and sitting them out at the table with his.

“This whole thing with Teddy’s crusade to find a suitable nickname for me.” He sighed and put his head in his hand looking down at his ruined Charms scroll with a frown. He would have to redo it. “I think right now he’s on ‘Mt. Go Merry’,” he scrunched up his face, “which really sounds more like a theme park than a name.”

To his left Fred giggled, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I like callin’ you by your whole name, Montgomery,” Fred said smiling at him shyly. “ _Montgomery_ ,” she repeated for demonstration, nodding at the same time.

And for some reason he blushed at the way her voice that never seemed to have the same accent as anyone else’s drew it out.

“Yeah,” he said continuing to look down at his scroll, but glancing at her in the corner of his eyes, “I see what you mean. I think I’m starting to really like it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: Title refers to the Chinese Proverb: "The beginnings of wisdom is to call things by their right names."


	12. Fit Together Seamlessly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Ginny slid her key into the lock and let herself into Katie and Angelina’s apartment. Their apartment. Their place. That’s how she can’t help but feel about the relationship sometimes even this many years in. It’s theirs and they’re just letting her visit.

Those thoughts tend to slip away when the three of them are together, but, that’s the problem. They can’t always be together. And a tiny part of her (the part of her that also wonders if Harry _ever_ really loved her and if the way she felt about him was really love) wonders if they would still want her if they could be together all the time. If she isn't just some novelty – a small fun diversion to have from their regular relationship every once in a while.

Because Katie and Angelina where together before she came along into their lives again and (that same part of her whispers cruelly at night when she is stuck lying in bed at home with a large gap between her and her husband – although she has long since stopped thinking of Harry as connected to that term – and she knows they are curled up together in _their_ bed in _their_ apartment) they will probably be together long after she is gone.

And what can she really offer them? They are so good together already and she is just _Ginny_.

Ginny who was possessed by Voldermort. Ginny, the youngest of the Weasleys (though that’s not so true at all, anymore). Ginny who gave in to pressure from her mother and married the boy she hero-worshipped as a little girl. Ginny, the woman who is keeping up the front of a marriage that no longer deserves the title whatsoever so that her kids don’t get picked apart by the vultures who call themselves the Wizarding media (like they did to Harry in school, like they did to Luna – they would go insane if they got word about Harry and hers' love lives).

When she walks through the door she sees the two of them on the couch. Angelina is stretched out with her feet in Katie’s lap flipping through some sports magazine. And Katie is frowning at something and scribbling with a quill on a notepad.

They both look up when she enters and smile, their faces brightening in welcome and suddenly her worries seem to evaporate. Suddenly, she isn’t just Ginny. She is Ginny – part of Angelina, Katie, and Ginny. Being with them, being a part of this, makes her feel more herself. Makes her feel energized and incredibly happy.

She wants to take this feeling and combine it with the feeling she gets when she’s home surrounded by her kids – warm, protective, safe, and loved. She wants Angelina and Katie to be a part of her whole life not just this bizarre hidden side part of it they have been regulated to for secrecy and safeties sake. She wants her life to fit seamlessly together – but real life doesn’t seem to work that way.

So, Ginny will take what she can get – but she will continue (she can’t help it) to wish for it all.


	13. Let's Pretend This Song Won't End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.  
> A/N 3: Title is a song lyric by the band Magnetic Fields.

“Why do I have to live up there in the castle? You two don’t. The Greenhouse is right here. It’s just stupid to sleep in the dorm with all of those idi-,” Ivy stopped pacing at his look, “people,” she amended, “when my home is a few yards away. How am I supposed to sleep in a bed anyway? I’ve slept in a hammock my whole life,” she pointed out. “And they don’t even have _potted_ plants in the dorm rooms,” she whispered as if it was a dirty secret she was revealing.

“I don’t want to leave,” she ended stomping her foot and crossing her arms.

Neville sighed he knew this was partially his fault. Ivy had been in contact with other Hogwart’s students for her whole life. Seeing them from their Greenhouse, in Poppy’s infirmary, and occasionally during his class. She had not been happy with her observations. Her impressions of the general student body was that they were all stupid-heads that couldn’t tell a mimbulus mimbletonia from a prickly pear cactus and totally underappreciated her Daddy. And she was not hesitant to let people know this – she was already infamous within the castle long before she got a letter. They had dubbed his little angel with the moniker 'Poison Ivy' for her venomous tongue.

It actually amused him somewhat that people were so surprised that such a strong willed little thing came from Hannah and him. That people could pick and choose what they wanted to remember. Go on about what a nervous girl and a hesitant boy Hannah had him had been in there school years – conveniently forgetting their _last_ year as students.

Conveniently forgetting the War, where Hannah had dug down deep and found an awe inspiring amount of inner strength and managed to be the Healer for their entire group. How he, along with Ginny and Luna, still students at the time – still children - had led the resistance in their school. Lead an _army_.

But no, when Ivy opens her mouth and filets someone (and he can never quite get mad because it’s always for a reason – he can only remind her to try to be polite) people who _remember_ them always exclaim over her - “Such a spirited thing - you two were always so civil.” And Hannah and him will just exchange a look in the corner of their eyes and smile politely.

He stood up and walked over to his daughter. “What is this really about, Ivy?,” he asked gently, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She glared at him staying tense and defiant for a long moment before she relaxed into him, her little arms uncrossing and wrapping around his middle. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave,” she whispered but this time it was said not angrily, but with a voice that trembled on the edge of tears.

“Oh, honey,” he said running his hand over her hair gently (the same color as her mother’s – it reminded him of the sun hitting golden wheat), “just because you’re growing up and going to Hogwarts doesn’t mean you can’t come back to the Greenhouse. You can visit us all the time during your free time and on weekends. We’re not going to suddenly lock the door on you,” he teased.

“Promise?,” she asked sniffing back tears and looking up at him with a smile that was shaky around the edges but a smile none the less.

“Of course, Ivy. And you’ve slept in a bed before. Remember your sleepovers with Rose and Fred?,” he asked her.

“We slept on the floor in a big pile of pillows mainly,” she contested but he knew if she was arguing with him she was feeling better.

“Yes,” he agreed with his daughter patiently, “my point is that you can learn to adapt to sleeping in places other than your hammock.”

“I guess that’s true,” Ivy muttered as she move her arms and began picking at the front of his sweater. “But what if I don’t make any friends?,” she whispered picking harder at a thread in her agitation, “You know some of those idiots already don’t like me. You _know_ they call me Poison Ivy.”

He caught her hands in his calming her, and marveled again at how small she was, “Weren’t you listening Ivy?,” he asked with a grin, “You already have friends.”

She made a face of confusion so he continued, “Fred, Rose, Hugo, Teddy, Lily, Albus, James…”

“James is a jerk,” she scowled.

“My point,” he reiterated not wanting her to get off on another “James-is-a-jerk” rant, “is that you already know more fellow students in the castle than most people do when they enter Hogwarts – way more than I did. And you already know who all of the teachers are. I'd say you’re _more_ than prepared for whatever Hogwarts can throw at you,” he smiled at her.

She stood for a moment looking at him before leaning forward abruptly and hugging him tightly again. “Thanks, Daddy,” she whispered and then she turned and ran off down the pathway through the greenery that led to her alcove.

As he watched his little whirlwind go he felt another pair of arms wrap around him from behind and a body as familiar as his own press against him.

“You did good,” Hannah whispered in his ear.

“She’s really growing up isn’t she?,” he asked, whispering as well although there was no real reason to.

“Yes,” Hannah agreed.

“I’m going to miss her,” he admitted. He knew that it was just a few yards away, that he would still see her in class and on weekends – everything he had just got through _telling_ his daughter. But…..

“Me too,” Hannah whispered and squeezed him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 4: Alright, so I know I jump around people and it gets confusing sometimes. Just so you know, the kids ages: Teddy and Montgomety are the same age. A year down you've got Fred, James, V, and Hugo. The year after that came Rose, Lily, and Albus. And now with this drabble, you have the youngest of all in the group coming in the castle *drumroll* - Ivy. Got 'em straight now? (I still have to consult a chart sometimes XD )


	14. If You're Dreaming, Are You Dreaming of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Fred squinted for a moment at the titles on the bookshelf before pushing up her glasses with an irritated sigh. Finally, she found the book she was looking for – “Spelled Today, Gone Tomorrow: Memory Charms and Potions” – and was about to make her way back to the table her friends had staked out in the library. But suddenly, movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Holding the book to her chest with one arm she walked slowly to the window and gazed over at the Dark Forest.

It was the thestrals - they were playing. Flying, diving, and chasing each other through the air over the trees. She recognized a few of them in particular, even from this far away.

Fred knew what was written in the books, what was the common knowledge. Only people who saw death with their own eyes could see these creatures. And Fred certainly hadn’t seen anyone die. Not while she was awake. _Not as Fred Lovegood anyway_ something whispered.

In her dreams she saw people die - she saw friends die. She killed things. She…Winifred Burkle…died. So many times Fred would wake up gasping for breath with the crystal clear memory of her skin hardening ( _into a shell_ ) and her insides burning ( _boiling, liquidating inside her_ ). Swallowed by blue. She hated blue.

So, so much.

Unconsciously, she touched her wand for comfort. Her mother had never lied to her. Had always told her what it meant to see the thestrals, the way they had been interested in her while she was still in the womb. Told her about her own dreams, that she too had been able to see things that others couldn’t her whole life. It was different yes, but, like the thestrals different didn’t have to mean scary. And, much like her mother, Fred had developed a strange friendship and affinity for the odd creatures.

The wand that had chosen her was one of the first her mother had made. Strong sturdy hornbeam wood in the fashion that the wandmaker Gregorovitch used to use ( _“Might actually make a decent stake, ‘aye?”_ the blonde man – who was not her Draco-dragon – winked at her when the initial warmth and rightness of it wore down and she was left staring at the wand itself). And inside was a thestral hair from Buttercup – her favorite.

Or maybe _she_ was _his_ favorite. He was the one that was most fascinated in her before she was even born. The one who followed her around the grounds like a puppy whenever she came to visit her Uncle Neville and Aunt Hannah. The one she rode with her mother – the first time she had ever flown (even before she got on a broom). Any fear being overtaken by wonder and the safety she felt laughing for the sheer joy of it in her mothers’ arms. Buttercup was the one that had tried to go to her, taking his carriage with him, when she got off the train her first year - much to the confusion of all the other students. He had refused to go with the others no matter how much Hagrid pulled until she gave him a hug and whispered promises in his ear to come see him later.

She felt a touch on her shoulder and jumped banging her head against the window in the process; she hadn’t realized she had been leaning that far against it. When she turned around she flushed. It was Montgomery. Of course it was, she always ended up acting like a spaz in front of him. Fred felt the same mixture of fascination and shyness she always did around the other boy.

“You’ve been gone for a while, Fred, you alright?” he asked.

“Yup,” she said as cheerily as possible, “I got the book. It was just tryin’ to hide from me. Awful rude of it,” she tried to joke.

He glanced out the window she had been staring through so intently, his brow furrowing, but Fred knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything. Montgomery couldn’t see the thestrals. He had never died – seen anyone die ( _yes_ , yes that is what she meant).

“Are you sure you’re alright, Fred?,” he asked again setting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into his warm eyes and melted a little bit more. He was so nice worrying over crazy 'ole Fred, his best friend's pseudo-sister.

“I’m fine Montgomery,” she said smiling at him softly and placing the hand not holding the book over his, “just rememberin'. Things are better just left as they are anyways. Let’s get back to studying with the others,” she walked away before he could say anything else.

And didn’t notice him biting his lip and watching her for a long moment before he followed.


	15. Things That Aren't Quantifiable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Fred frowned as she walked through the castle. Quidditch practice had just ended for today, but she wanted to find Professor Wood. Her bat was damaged. She had a tendency to always hit the ball as if she needed to kill it and now the spelled surface of the wood was showing signs of wear.

She supposed she could just get a new one from the school supplies, but she liked _hers_ – the one that her Uncle George had given her that had blue tape around the grip long before she got sorted into Ravenclaw. It made her want to hit things.

She ran her finger over the main crack with a sigh, she hoped the Professor could assist her in fixing it, he always seemed to know all sorts of things about Quidditch. Suddenly noises intruded on her thoughts. Fred looked up and saw a group of older boys picking on a younger student and something inside her flared. She could almost swear she saw a pretty brunet woman for a second saying to her, _“We Help The Helpless.”_ And then she was charging across the hallway. When she got closer she saw the younger student was Albus.

Then she got _mad_.

She pushed between the group of older boys and their smaller target and raised her beaters bat yelling, “Back off!”

“Or what?” one of them, a sixth or seventh year Slytherin by the look of it, sneered, “You’ll hit us with sporting equipment? How Muggle.”

“A bludger is 25.4 centimeters in diameter of solid iron and weighs 67.585 kilograms. The average speed of an undirected bludger is 97.2044 kilometers per hour,” Fred said very quick and low.

“What does that have to do with anything?” one of the other bigger boys (a Hufflepuff by his tie) asked taken aback but still trying to act tough.

“It doesn’t,” Fred said, “what matters is that an adult human head only weighs between 3.6 and 5.4 kilograms and you’re all still pubescent. How easy do you think it would be for me to hit you when you’re not even moving?”

“Why do you care?” asked the obviously shaken boy who had first addressed her and was the ring leader. “You aren’t a Prefect and we weren’t even _really_ hurting the nerd.”

“He is in _my_ House and he’s _my brother_ ,” she answered meeting their eyes defiantly.

“Half-brother,” someone muttered.

“Brother,” Fred growled.

“She’s right,” one of the ones closer to her age that she thought she vaguely recognized said, “their Potter kids if we’re found fightin’ with ‘em, who do you think is goin’ to catch heat?”

“You’re wrong,” Fred said in a calm voice, “I’m not a Potter, I’m a Lovegood.” She raised her bat, bared her teeth and made her eyes even bigger, “We’re all crazy ‘member?”

She took a step forward and the already twitchy bullies scattered. She waited until she was sure they were gone before lowering her bat and turning around to face Albus. He was holding his torn bag with his school things tightly to his chest and his glasses that he had had to get last year like her and Bio-Dad were askew. He had bright green eyes like Bio-Dad too – they were currently staring at her.

“You alright there?” she asked gently. “I can help ya get to Miss Poppy if you need to.”

That seemed to snap him out of it and he looked down and started to shakily try to get his stuff together. “No, no. I’m alright. Th-thank you for –"

The quicker he tried to gather his books and papers the more he squished, dropped or fumbled them. Fred felt an odd sense of recognition and nostalgia (she had learned to find these sort of things normal – normal, as her mother had taught her was relative). Fred knelt, set her beater bat down on the floor and started picking up the things he had dropped, sorting them into a pile she could easily carry.

“I’ll walk ya back to our Common Room before I head on to Professor Wood. Ge’s always in his office late anyway,” she picked up her beaters bat again and stood with about half of his scrolls tucked under one arm.

Albus stayed on the floor and stared.

“Why are you doing this?,” he blurted out.

Fred looked down at him confused, “You’re family,” she said simply.

Albus’ face cleared, “You’re like Lily then,” he said as if something had clicked into place for him.

“What?,” Fred asked scrunching up her nose.

“Nothing, nothing,” Albus said clambering to his feet awkwardly with the rest of his books and ripped bag. “So,” he began as they started walking, “I hear you’ve been trying to figure out the science behind magic?”

“Not quite,” Fred said absentmindedly swinging her bat, “I know that sometimes magic is just magic. There are some things like intent that really aren’t quantifiable. I’m more interested in combining the two. Magic and science. I don’t see why they can’t mix.”

Albus bit his lip and darted his eyes over to his half-sister, _sister_ he told himself – she had protected him and called him her brother, she was his sister. “Can I help?” he asked hopefully.

Fred turned her head towards him and smiled brightly, “Of course!” And they chattered about things that made most people’s eyes glaze over or told him to shut up about the whole way back to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Albus decided he quite liked having another sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: The whole Fred-tone and information spew when she is threatening the bullies was supposed to be a callback to the Angel episode "That Old Gang of Mine".


	16. Yes, But Not Just

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

When she finally got it to work right her breath caught in her throat.

Gabrielle knew enough to know this innovation would be a huge boon for their magazine, for the company. It would prove to everyone – to herself – that she was a pretty face, naturally, but not _just_ a pretty face.

Her sister, Fleur, had always loomed large before her. Shinning bright and wonderful. Smart, passionate, strong, brave, and _of course_ beautiful. But the last hardly mattered since when you grew up in a community of Veela, _everyone_ was beautiful. Physical beauty became such a normal natural thing that it failed to matter anymore – that it barely registered.

Gabrielle wanted to be more than that. She loved her job, unexpectedly so. She hadn’t thought she would – she had planned to use her beauty as a stepping stone but she hadn’t really thought she would make a career out of it. To a part of her modeling almost felt like cheating (her heritage gave her an unfair natural advantage in the field).

Then Pansy had become a friend and Narcissa a role model of sorts (a second mother that might mock her choices sometimes under a veneer of politeness, but would kill anyone who threatened her without even blinking). And she felt invested in the business itself. Pansy might be the owner of Viperidae and Narcissa the entire marketing department ( _it’s just a hobby, dear_ ), but, although she was quite young and just their model, they would often ask her advice.

Take it, no. Ask it, yes.

But that was just how they were. Pansy always brashly saying how she wanted her company to be, Cissa smoothly making “suggestions”, and her own comments somehow sliding in throughout the conversation. It worked and – and she was part of something.

And now, now she had done something. Figured something out that would truly benefit them - would solidify her as position in the group - her worthiness.

Gabrielle quickly gathered all of the scrolls, papers, and things she needed and made her way to the fireplace. One handed she threw Floo powder into the fire and glanced at herself in the mirror over her mantle. She ran her fingers through her hair once and it set perfectly. The mirror told her she looked beautiful – she rather hated that mirror.

No time to dwell on that thought, she stepped into the now green flames and said, “Malfoy Manor.”

 

***

 

Pansy was already talking to someone, a dark pretty fellow who glanced up as she walked by. But, Gabrielle kept going, if Pansy was busy she could just tell her later. It was Mrs. Malfoy anyway who truly dealt with these sorts of things.

She found her in the library, sitting at a sofa calmly paging through a thin tome. When she entered the woman looked up, “Gabrielle, I wasn’t aware you were coming to visit today. I would have had the House Elves make those lovely tarts you like,” she said in welcome.

“No, no,” she said coming to sit beside her, placing all of her things on her lap. “I,” she knew she was smiling much too widely. Uncontrollably so, and tried to steady herself, “I have discovered something.”

Gabrielle pulled their latest magazine (which she had used in her testing) from the pile on her lap and turned to a page where she was wearing a green lace-trimmed corset top. In the description it said the garment also came in black, grey, and - for an extra fee, _of course_ \- red, blue, and gold. She placed her wand atop the appropriate color and clearly said, “Gold.”

In the picture her top changed colors appropriately. Narcissa sat up slightly and put the piece of black velvet that she had as a bookmark to mark her place and set it aside to give Gabrielle’s demonstration her full attention.

“I first had the thought when I saw something similar on Hermione’s computer at my niece’s birthday party. And I wondered, why can’t we do that with magic?”, she said quickly, her excitement getting to her again.

Narcissa took out her own wand placed it on black and intoned the color. It worked again. She looked back up calmly, “Do you have any ideas on how to do this on a mass scale?,” she queried in a steady voice that gave nothing away. “We can’t be be-spelling each magazine by hand.”

“Yes, yes,” Gabrielle nodded her head enthusiastically, “I spoke with Luna Lovegood at the last gathering of my brother-in-law’s family. Her father used to own a publication. I also have had a few conversations with a gentleman who specializes in ink at Flourish & Blotts. I have it all written out in my notes,” she practically shoved them at the other woman.

Narcissa took them and calmly organized them into a neat pile before she would even begin reading them. Her face was still giving nothing away and Gabrielle’s nerves built. She barely kept herself from tapping her foot and instead breathed deeply.

The other blonde woman finally looked up after several minutes. A small infinitely pleased smile bloomed across her face, “This is wonderful Gabrielle, it is going to be a marvelous asset to our magazine.” She grabbed the younger girls hand and squeezed it fondly. “You did good,” she said her voice taking on a warmer tone.

 _Not just a pretty face_ Gabrielle thought triumphantly as pride flared through her.


	17. It's Not Easy Being Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“You have to stop seeing him,” Katrina stood in front of where she was on the couch in the Slytherin Common Room and glared down at her.

“Stop seeing who?,” V asked laconically not deigning to look up from her book. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Rose glancing at her, her fellow Weasley there to lend support if needed.

“Teddy Lupin, I know we’re not supposed to talk about these things anymore but you know who his parents were. _What_ his parents were,” she whispered her eyes flashing. “You’re a Slytherin, you can’t be seen with those types.”

Victoire simply stared at her for a long moment. Was the girl misinformed about V’s own blood or simply just stupid.

She had never taken well to people telling her what to do. Luckily, she had not had much of that in her life. Her parents, as she later found when she came in contact with others’, were remarkably open-minded, low-key, and tolerant. And although a little secluded cottage on a cliff would always be called home, she spent much of her life traveling due to her parents’ jobs with the Bank. Her father was a renowned curse breaker and her mother’s geniality and beauty was a great asset in brokering deals - which the goblins used to its fullest extent.

So, her parents rarely demanded things of her or tried to change her. Even when she tired of her first name and shortened it to V. Even when she developed her own personal style that differed so greatly from their own ( _Ziz is what is called goz-ic?_ ).

Her mother was just happy she didn’t try to dye her hair black. But, she had already been warned about that by her aunt. Veela hair didn’t take kindly to dye. V adored her Aunt Gabrielle - she was the most awesome person ever and was the face of the most edgy risqué clothing shop in Diagon Alley - probably the whole Wizarding World. Even when V was still much too young for the clothes and undergarments and stuff, she would send along accessories that Viperade came out with that she thought her niece would like: purses, jewelry, gloves, etc. Right now she even had the logo for the company – two snake wrapped around a V on her school bag (some of the Muggleborns thought it was just a specialized Slytherin-type monogram). So when Aunt Gabrielle assured her she could rock both her heritage and her style, she went with it.

And if she ever wanted to play around with hair colors, she always had Teddy to guinea pig it.

Oh, Teddy. One of her first memories was being entranced by his hair (and how entranced he was by her delighted laughter each time he changed it). As she got older, she looked forward more and more to the two or three times a year she would see Fred and him. When she was able to she started writing them letters from wherever she was with her parents. The closeness of friendship with Teddy had seemed to shift so easily, so naturally, into something more.

And then one day on the train, after not seeing him since the year before at Hogwarts – that summer had been busy for her parents. Not communicating at all except in letters. Well, when he had shoved her school things in the overhead compartment for her, his arms extended over his head and his face so close – there really hadn’t been another choice in her mind. She had leaned forward the last little bit and kissed him.

When she pulled away his hair was green (her favorite color) and his eyes were gold (his favorite – and she loved it too, the glint of gold always reminded her of the snitch. She was a seeker for a reason. She wanted to chase that color) and he was smiling with his arms still above his head.

Of course, James broke the moment. And then, in his shock, went out and accidentally told everyone – grownups and fellow students alike. But she didn’t really mind, she wasn’t trying to hide anything.

She got up from where she had been lounging bonelessly in front of the fireplace her usual grace seeming somehow dangerous, “Do you know who I am?,” she asked without raising her voice, walking, or perhaps, stalking closer to the other girl. “Or as you put it before, I suppose it would be more accurate to ask, do you know _what_ I am?” The other girl shook her head and V fought not to smile at how quickly people were intimidated when you actually stood up to them. The room was very quiet.

“Non?,” she asked rhetorically. “My father is part werewolf, my mother part Veela. You have never seen me enraged have you?” she asked and the girl shook her head fearfully. “Do not attempt to tell me what I can and can not do. Believe me, you would not like me when I am angry.”

She grabbed her book and left. Rose followed through the portrait hole barely a few steps behind. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry?,” the redhead rolled her eyes. “God, V, you and Teddy really need to lay off the TV marathons during the summers. Especially that old crap you keep watching.”

“What can I say?,” V smirked at Rose as they turned down the hallway to the Gryffindor Common Room, “I like green.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 4: V stole her quote from the Hulk, of course, which belongs to Stan Lee.


	18. Vetting Process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?,” he hears his head of House ask in an even tone behind him and Albus, already twitchy - jumps. “You are aware that students aren’t supposed to be in this part of Hogsmeade.”

He bit his lip and turns around slowly to face Professor Padma. He did know. This was the opposite end from where all of the stores that the students frequented. This was where the food stores were, where the antique stores were…where _his_ pub was.

Albus knew he should have told the others he was going in to this part of town – to a _pub_. Hugo was big and no one would mess with them if he brought his cousin along. And his siblings deserved to come, this included them too (especially Lily. Oh, he really really wished he had brought her. Things always seemed less scary and insurmountable when his twin was with him).

But, when he came up with this idea – he wanted to do it alone. He _had_ to do it alone.

He, he just had to see him.

They had all known that the man’s name was Seamus. That he was a friend of _both_ of their parents. That he fought in the War – in the final Battle. That he now owned a pub.

For some reason though, it hadn’t all come together for Albus that it was this pub. This pub that was so very close – _just_ out of bounds each month when they went to Hogsmeade. When he realized it though…

Professor (and Head of Ravenclaw _and_ Deputy Headmistress) Padma watched him solemnly before glancing up at the sign over their heads that proclaimed, “Irish Pub” and had a large shamrock backing with a silver fox peeking out from behind the back.

“You’re here to see Seamus,” she said her eyes coming back down to regard him calmly.

Albus nodded wide-eyed. She knew. How did she…how many people…..

She grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled him through the door he had been too scared to pass through himself. When they entered it was obviously a bit busy and he bulked again, but her hand was still on his shoulder.

The bartender spotted them immediately, “Dean is upstairs, Padma,” he yelled over the noise. “You know how he is about people – especially crowds. You’re welcome to use my Floo if ya like.”

She squeezed his shoulder and gave Albus one more knowing glance before she made her way behind the bar. She stopped briefly to whisper something in the bartender’s ear and then continued through a door in the back.

And then – then the man’s eyes were on him and his breath caught. Because that must be him. That was the guy that his Dad was seeing.

And he was staring right back, “You’ve got your father’s eyes,” was the first thing he said. And then he laughed hard, slapping the table. “Damn, sorry about that. You must be tired of hearing that by now,” he grinned. “Even if you do. Your father’s eyes and I guess that means your grandmother’s as well, huh?”

Someone suddenly yelled over the general din for another beer. “Shut up, I’ll be with you in a fucking minute,” Seamus called back without breaking eye contact with Albus. There was some grumbling and Seamus sighed and rolled his eyes theatrically.

Albus giggled losing a bit of his nervousness. His Dad’s boyfriend didn’t seem so bad.


	19. Wide Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

There were many good things that came from Professor Creevey’s class. With him teaching Muggle Studies, the things Muggles had invented actually sounded important. He made some of the students proud of where they had come from, made purebloods fascinated about things they had never seen or heard of: genetics, microchips, atomic weaponry, astrophysics, (duct tape). It sounded unreal.

After Hogwarts some students were actually leaving the Wizarding World and going into colleges. There was a squib who worked in a small library in Muggle London who would help prospective students study for the different testing they needed to do to show their qualification to the UCAS.

Many pureblood parents were not pleased.

But, most just hoped they returned. Because the more forward thinking could see that if they could bring back their knowledge and ideas, they could possibly jump start the Wizarding World which had grown stagnant in so many ways.

And the entire shift in attitude that had started with the end of the War and an almost entirely new younger-generation staff at Hogwarts - and gained momentum each consecutive year - was largely seen as a good thing as well.

Before, if you were born to Muggle parents and then suddenly you learned you had magic, then you were a witch or wizard. The change was unexpected and abrupt. A letter comes by _an owl_ and then a teacher came by your house to help explain - telling you to go to a special school. You were entered into that world, you were made to know that culture (made to feel as if your previous one was lesser), and usually you never left it.

Now though, now somehow it was slowly starting to become ok to be both. Accept Wizarding culture and history as a muggle-born but not having to forfeit your own. And even being a pure-blood or half-blood (they – having a parent on both sides of the fence - had always tended to try to keep a toe in before anyway) and embracing the larger world’s culture was now being seen as a _good_ thing (who would have guessed _Arthur Weasley_ was just a man ahead of his time).

So, it was a good thing (in theory) that the muggle-born students felt secure enough to petition for an annual dance like most schools had. And this petition got enough support from the general student body that it was agreed upon by the Headmistress and the staff.

But Fred still despised it.

Well, she did right up until the moment Montgomery asked her out in her 4th year. Then she adored it.

Fred liked Montgomery. That was a stupid thing to say, of course she liked Montgomery. She had had a crush on him since she had first laid eyes on him by the Hogwarts Express before seeing Teddy off.

And the night had been magical (not magical in the way she does magic every day in school, but magical in the way people say in stories). She had been all dressed up with the assistance of Rose who had assured her the burgundy gown went with her coloring beautifully. And Montgomery had been wearing classical dress robes the white of his shirt underneath making his skin look even darker.

(Her déjà vu had been going off even more than normal but she had tried to ignore it.)

They had danced a little, but neither of them where great at it. So, mostly they sat at the table their friends had snagged for the night. But, it was them together on a date. Their first date. The unspoken agreement that they both liked each other – as more than just friends.

She hadn’t been able to stop smiling.

When the night started to wind down, he walked her back towards Ravenclaw Dorms hand in hand. Still a bit of a ways away he stopped and Fred turned to him questioningly. Looking nervous he leaned forward and kissed her.

For a moment she was just stunned, then Fred brought her hands up to his face to pull him closer. He made a startled sound but seemed to melt into it, his other hand going to her waist.

When they broke apart panting slightly she heard Montgomery whisper, “Wow.”

But still with her eyes closed she whispered, “Charles.”

Immediately Fred’s eyes popped open in panic to see Montgomery’s look of hurt and confusion. She stood frozen for a moment.

Then she ran.

She ran to the statue guarding Ravenclaw and answered its question without thinking. She ran to her rooms and snatched up her notebook and pen while ditching her shoes. And then ran back out to the hallway, headed in the opposite direction she had left her date.

She had to find a place to hide. Somewhere small and safe to retreat to.

The thought repeated through her mind as she dashed through the old corridors ignoring the stares and whispers of the paintings.

She needed to go to her safe place in the castle.

When she reached the door of her destination she slowed and breathing deeply first, snuck into the Infirmary. The lights were dimmed for the night and Ms. Poppy, luckily, was nowhere in sight. Quietly, Fred crept through the long room and curled into a small space between a cabinet and the wall, not noticing that her dress was getting wrinkled and dirty.

She opened her notebook (a diary really) and looked at the list of names: Wesley, Spike, Angel, Cordelia, Lorne. Now she could add Charles.

Names were elusive to her (feelings and impression – déjà vu was much more common). And her dreams tended to slip away quickly - especially when she usually pushed them away so hard. Usually she didn’t want to remember what she dreamed.

(Wesley though was a name she would never forget – _Please Wesley, why can’t I stay?_ ).

She knew her mother kept no record of her own dreams (which she always suspected were about much more than just one other persons’ life) but Fred had always had the urge to write things down. She stared at teachers’ blackboards covetously - all that free space to lay out ideas (she was thinking of asking for one for Christmas).

But once she started coming in contact with more people regularly (especially once she hit Hogwarts) she got that whole déjà vu thing more and more. People were their own people and all, it was just…

Spike came to her mind quick and often. She knew her Draco-dragon was a completely different person but the similarities made him comfortable. Plus, Spike was mostly easy memories ( _dreams_ , not memories, _dreams_. It didn’t happen to _her_.) laughing, talking, and friendship.

Then some things were harder. The other day when her arms were full of books and her glasses were slipping down her nose, Hugo had smiled at her fondly and pushed them back up with one finger. For as second her world had seemed to stop and she could have sworn she was in another place – the doorway to a room with equations written all over the walls – and his hair was brown, not red. _Angel_.

If you took V’s confidence, Rose’s fashion sense, and Ivy’s mouth and stuck them all together you would get Cordelia. Sometimes the girls would say or do things and she would get sad thinking - Cordy’s dead now. Before it hit her that no, _she_ was dead now. But no, neither was true because it wasn’t _her_ at all. _Fred Lovegood_ hadn’t known _Cordelia_.

And green might be V’s favorite color, but, for two hours one summer she had sat in front of Teddy staring at his hair getting him to lighten and darken it until he got it just right. _That was the shade of green a lot of people would probably choose to be if they could_ she thought standing stringently by what the other Fred had told Lorne (after a sinful amount of Chinese food).

Then there was James, who, the way he seemed to treat her - to see her - reminded her so sharply of the interactions she remembered seeing ( _dreaming_ ) about Angel and Spike. So much competiveness and emotional baggage, but under it all when push came to shove, still family – still _blood_.

Charles though was a name that had kept trying to hide from her. She knew who he was – kept seeing him. But the other Fred had always called him something different from everyone else. It made the memory/dreams of him confusing to keep track of.

But now she had it and she almost wished she didn’t.

Charles, his name was Charles. Charles was the one in her dreams lately. The dreams she had thought where just naughty thoughts about Montgomery that made her blush a bit, but now she realizes…( _getting back after a long hard night of patrol and just collapsing into bed – barely having enough energy to strip out of their dirty slimy clothes first. She stretches her palm wide on his chest admiring the contrast of their skin and he murmurs in contentment bringing his own hand up to cover hers. And she smiles snuggling closer; tomorrow perhaps they’ll get some pancakes_ ).

That couldn’t possibly be Montgomery.

And this is worse, so much worse than all the others because with them she was just comparing them to people in the old Winifred’s life. With Montgomery, Merlin, she had got Montgomery _mixed up_ with someone. Had confused him in dreams.

The thought brought her up short and she bit her lip. Did that count as cheating (in some odd twisted bizarre way)? Were they even dating really? Would he even want to date her after she said some other guy’s name the first time they kissed?

Fred hugged her diary to herself and tried not to cry. She wished horribly that she was home. That she could go into her mother’s room and just be comforted.

But, even if he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, (and she bit down harder on her lip so as not to let herself cry at that) he still deserved an explanation of her behavior. She would talk to him tomorrow.

***

That turned out to be harder than she thought. Montgomery was obviously avoiding her (not that she blamed him) and had gone to breakfast earlier than usual.

And, it being a Sunday, since the dance had been helpfully held on a Saturday as to not bother classes, he was able to hole up not only in the Gryffindor Common Room (where she couldn’t get to him). But, in his dorm room as well (where she doubly couldn’t get to him).

Fred was left with the awkwardness of asking Teddy - the boy who was like a brother to her and his best friend - to get Montgomery to come out and talk to her. Usually, Teddy would have joked or tried to pry but he understood serious things as well. He could tell by her manner (and red rimmed eyes – she had lost the battle with tears late at night unable to sleep with the thoughts running through her head) that this was important.

Montgomery met her in the hallway (so so, unlike the night before that it hurt) looking wary.

“I,” she made herself meet his eyes steadily, “we need to talk.”

He nodded and followed her when she silently led him to one of the many abandoned classrooms.

She sat on the teacher’s desk and after a moments hesitation Montgomery sat beside her looking down at his feet. Fred decided to take that as a good sign.

“I have these dreams,” she started after a long silence. Then she just laughed shortly and ran a hand through her hair, “Fuck.”

Montgomery looked up, startled by her uncharacteristic cursing.

She grinned at him self-deprecatingly, “This is all going to sound so crazy. I’ve never told anyone really. No one knows. I mean my mother does, but that’s because she dreams, too, ya know? But I’ve never told Draco-dragon or Uncle George or Teddy. This is just such a part of my life that…..,” she trailed off.

“Fred,” he said looking concerned.

“But, you deserve to know,” she said nodding decisively. Fred took a deep steadying breath and turned towards the boy who she really liked, the boy who was about to think she was insane. “For as long as I can remember I’ve gotten these dreams of another Winifred. Winifred Burkle. She was a…a Muggle scientist I suppose. But, she was much much more than that. Even if she wasn’t magical herself, she was surrounded by magic. And and she invented things…..,” she saw Montgomery was staring at her and she stopped.

“And she had lots of wonderful friends,” Fred looked down at her hands. “The-the problem last night,” she continued, “was that you reminded me of one of them.”

“But,” Montgomery started in slight confused embarrassment, “you said the name after - after we kissed.”

“Yeah,” Fred looked up biting her lip, this was the hardest part, “Winifred – the other Winifred,” she quickly qualified, “and Charles were more than just friends. I,” and oh, she couldn’t keep eye contact and say this, “I’ve dreamt of them together. I had actually been confusing them until last night for the two of us,” she flushed darkly. “That’s kinda one of the reasons why I ran off – it startled me when everything came together.”

Montgomery was looking a bit wide eyed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered trying not to cry again. She didn’t want to be like this – but sometimes (as her mother had told her since she was very little) people were just different and that could be _hard_ (so, so damn hard) but that _wasn’t_ bad ( _it wasn’t_ ). “I understand if ya don’t want ta talk ta me anymore,” she finished roughly.

“No, no,” the boy said seemingly more startled by that than everything else she had said. “It’s just a lot to take in,” he smiled at her tentatively and she returned it the same.

“Fred?,” he asked after another long pause and he was now looking down at his shoes again. “Did you – do you like me? Or was it just that I reminded you of Charles?”

“I like you Montgomery,” Fred said honestly and he looked up hopefully, “I’ve kinda liked you an awful lot since I first saw you. I can’t say that whole initial recognition thing wasn’t influenced by my memories of the dreams I’ve had. But, since I’ve gotten to know you, well, I really like you for _you_ ,” she blushed yet again.

“I really like you for you, too, Fred,” he said smiling wide.

“Really?,” Fred said in disbelief, barely even daring to hope. “Even after everything I told you?”

“Well,” Montgomery said wryly, “most people learn new things about people as they start dating. I mean sure usually, its favorite color and food. Stuff like that. But, you’re a Lovegood. I should have figured on weird.”

Fred giggled (both in amusement and largely relief) and slid closer to him on the desk until she could lace her fingers through his and lean her head against his shoulder.

The quiet in the room was comfortable and for a while they just sat leaning against each other watching motes of dust move around in the beam of light coming in through the windows.

“Fred?,” Montgomery queried after an utterly questionable amount of time had passed.

“Hmm?” she responded looking up at him in drowsy contentment.

“Do you think you could tell me about them sometime? The other Winifred and her friends?,” he was watching her carefully.

She sat up suddenly wide awake.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he hurriedly said, obviously afraid he had said something wrong in this bizarre situation.

“No, no,” Fred smiled at him bright and relieved, “I’d love to tell you about them.”


	20. Sleep Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Pansy has built a great life for herself but waking curled up in bed with him on lazy Saturdays makes her wish for things she can’t have. Makes her wish both Percy and her could have a do over and have their lives actually turn out as originally planned this time around.

But, if that were the case – if their lives turned out how they originally planned them - she would be Mrs. Draco Malfoy right now and he would be working his way up through the political chain in the Ministry of Magic.

She definitely wouldn’t be here. Wouldn’t have the press of his long gangly frame against her. Gently she runs a hand over his sleep-warm body, tracing the bit of rough red hair above his belly button. _He really does needs to eat more_ , the thought floats through her mind and causes her to grimace her fingers curling into claws and making her scratch him slightly by accident. His stomach muscles clench and Pansy’s eyes fly to his face but other than grumbling slightly Percy stays asleep.

 _He works himself so hard and doesn’t take proper care of himself_ ; again she tries to squash the thought because - that’s not her. She’s _not_ going to be dependent on anyone again. She’s not going to become a little housewife tied down to a manor whose sole job is to please her husband and pop out kids.

She’s Pansy Parkinson owner of Viperidae, the hottest store to hit the Wizarding….

Percy shifts fitfully in his sleep, his face tight, murmuring slightly. _Another nightmare_ , she realizes instantly. She reaches out and grabs his hand and uses her other to stroke the side of his face. Slowly, without even waking up, he calms. After continuing her ministrations for several more minutes she tries to disengage herself. But, Percy (still asleep) keeps a grip on her hand.

So, she sits naked and cross legged on the bed (still holding his hand) and reviews in her head for a moment what had just happened – more importantly, her second natured, completely automatic reaction.

After several moments, Pansy closes her eyes, lets out a long slow breath, and just allows her head fall back limply before opening them again to stare blindly at the ceiling. Bloody everlasting hell. She was _in love_ with a fucking Weasley.


	21. Girl Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

They really should be studying.

But, after hours of the surprisingly sunny day taunting them from the library window, Rose had grown frustrated and called "Girl Time". The females of the group had instantly broken off from the table, much to the males’ confusion.

Girl Time seemed to currently consist of lying out by the lake, on the far side – away from anyone else.

Fred and Lily were having competitions as to who could balance books on their extended legs, while lying down on their backs the longest. (An off-hand comment was made early on that it was a good thing that it was still cool enough that the girls were wearing tights under their skirts or else they would have ended up flashing everyone).

Rose was leaning against a tree behind Ivy, french braiding her hair. V, sitting cross legged, watched the other Slytherin’s fingers move meditatively while fingering her own hair.

“Maybe I should get a mow hawk,” she said breaking the silence.

The others stared at her. Rose held the braid in place for a moment to stop and give her a disgusted look, “No,” she stated simply.

“Not a full on one,” V reasoned, “just, you know, real short on the side and longer down the middle,” she pushed her fingers in her hair moving her hands up so it all pilled in the middle of her head in demonstration.

Ivy and Lily giggled (her books shaking) and she could see Fred was biting her lip not to move and disturb her own pile. Rose gave her one last unimpressed look before turning back to Ivy’s hair, “If you choose to butcher your hair, V, you will not be using the TV in my room anymore when you’re in town.”

V’s eyes narrowed at the challenge to her precious means of entertainment. “There’s a TV in your parent’s living room as well,” she reminded her cousin.

“Yes,” Rose smirked not looking up from the braid, “but if you use the one in the living room, you can’t watch TV alone with Teddy.”

V dropped her hair and smiled sheepishly, “You know, I always like my hair the way it is,” she stated in an over casual manner causing Ivy to giggle and the two competitors to tense and narrow their eyes at the books they were balancing. “It’s very classic you know.”

“Yes, classic,” Rose said dryly then she frowned and tugged on the hair in her hand lightly in warning. “Stop jerking, I’ll get lumps in the braid. How did it come out anyway? I thought I had done it pretty tight”

Ivy immediately stopped giggling and crossed her arms sullenly, “James grabbed the end of it to get my attention in the hallway when I was angry and trying to ignore him.”

“What was it this time,” Lily asked conceding and letting her books slide down to her stomach.

“I hear a James-is-a-jerk rant coming,” Fred sing-songed and than following her sister’s lead letting her legs rest.

“James _is_ a jerk,” Ivy said glaring at her. “I mean _come on_ , you got in to a fist fight with him. On the Quidditch pitch even!”

Fred sighed and flipped onto her stomach, “Ivy, I already told you what that was about. I’m not even mad at him anymore.”

“Well,” she said not deterred, “he calls me Poison Ivy.”

“ _Everyone_ calls you Poison Ivy,” V said, “it’s a nickname. You laughed just earlier today when Albus said it. James is actually more polite to you than he is to most people – he goes out of his way to be nice to you - because he doesn’t get your instant dislike of him. Which, honestly, Ivy, I don’t really understand either.”

“He,” she bit her lip floundering, “he…”

“She likes him,” Lily said simply.

“I do not,” Ivy said instantly flushing and leaning foreword. Rose pulled her hair harder this time and she sat back down.

“You do,” Lily said calmly.

“I do not,” she said much quieter, “he’s older than me.”

“By two years,” the other girl smiled at her, “that might matter now, yes. But, it won’t in a few years. Professors Patil and Wood have five years between them…,”

“Wait, _what_?,” she heard Rose mutter behind her.

“….and many other relationships, especially in the Wizarding World, have a much greater gap.”

Fred was staring at the other girl with and odd smile on her face, “You remind me _way_ too much of my mother sometimes,” she said.

“I take that as a compliment,” Lily (Lil’Luna) said with a grin.

“You should,” Fred replied wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Although I do tend to find it both weird and comforting at the same time,” she paused, “much like my mother actually.”

“I don’t like James,” Ivy muttered sullenly, “he has a girlfriend anyway.”

“That won’t last,” Rose said definitively, finally putting the hair tie on the end of her braid.

“What,” Ivy asked stretching a bit after her prolonged position, “why?”

She could feel the glance shared over her head. It was Lily who ended up fielding the question again, “James’ girlfriends never last because all of the things he can’t tell about our Mom and Dad. It eats away at him - he feels like he’s lying, even though _they_ haven't even told us about it yet,” she said quietly.

“The girls are all attracted to the brooding boy, but, they forget that that boy is brooding for a reason. _And_ , he’s probably not going to spill his heart out to you if he just met you,” Fred finished quirking her lip.

Ivy reached around and touched the end of her braid, thinking.

“He’s still a jerk,” she said finally breaking the mood, playfully unwilling to give up the point. And the other girls laughed and continued to tease until they moved onto Rose and whoever was trying to date her at the moment (much to her great annoyance).


	22. Still Felt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It was odd for them to think about, to consider the fact that at their age some of their parents had been at War.

The world that they lived in now was so different.

But, it had happened _right here_. These hallways that they walked every day had one night been filled with explosions and screams (after months of tension, torture, and raids - _teachers vs. students_ , but that had really just been a facade for Death Eaters vs. DA). The lawn on which they sat and chatted had been scattered with dead bodies. Where they ate lunch was the same place a Dark Lord had been defeated.

It was hard to wrap their minds around.

Most just ignored it. Went on with everyday life – how couldn’t you? You saw these “landmarks” everyday and it had been _years_.

But, some noticed things.

Noticed how Professor Longbottom refused to live in the school – spent as little time in the actual castle as possible.

That Professor Weasley would sometimes be seen just standing in a certain part of the hallway touching a wall, his eyes distant.

How Professor Creevey never referred to himself as being a part of the Wizarding World (or the Muggle World either for that matter), had never forgiven them.

Professor Hooch who stayed in the background, yet seemed to see everything with her hawk eyes - after the war, she didn’t teach kids to simply fly and than they were free to go. No. After the war, they were not done with her lessons until they were able to draw a wand while flying evasively.

The way Professor Patil touched people a lot, yes, but it seemed as much of a comforting gesture as it was something she needed to know they were safe.

That in Madame Pompfrey stores she kept more bandages and healing potions on hand than many hospitals.

Headmistress McGonagall spent as much time with the students as possible – much more than any previous Headmaster. She oversaw the Sorting, she sat in on the Quidditch tryouts, often walked the halls, visited the library and helped with problems on schoolwork. She knew their names. _All_ of them.

Professor Padma taught Bruise Removal Paste, Wound Sterilization Potion, Star Grass Salve, Burn Healing Paste, Revive Potion, and such more strictly than any others – just in case.

Professor Wood was the one to go to with questions about Quidditch but you never saw him on a broom. On game days, he would be found sitting on the ground with his back against The Memorial.

Professor Hagrid was allowed a wand now, but he kept his pink umbrella as a back up and needed cane – a constant reminder that being part giant didn’t fully protect him from the brunt of spells.

To those who could read it, Professor Bones had safety, protection, and peace carved, painted, and drawn all through her rooms (and more subtly in her classroom _and_ hidden within the castle).

Professor Zabini taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, yes. But, he would sometimes diverge from the text – stare at the class and seriously explain the importance of defending yourself from falling into the darkness. Of defending not only from things attacking you from the outside, but from yourself.

And although he had been accepted back in the Forest, Professor Firenze continued to teach them to read what the stars were willing to tell. He tolerated the stares and whispers perhaps, for the way he greeted those he had done battle beside. The centaur now had two herds.

Professor Bulstrode lectured seriously about Wizarding history in class, she knew inside and out. It’s triumphs and screw-ups. She pushed for class participation and candid debate. She had obvious pride in her heritage – wizards and witches in general that is, but, she refused to talk about her own family.

And while Professor Trelawney never stopped claiming psychic abilities, she came to breakfast everyday and seemed calmer once she had laid her _physical eyes_ on everyone.

It was there, the War burnt into all of them still – you just had to choose to look.


	23. A Solid Unit From Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It was his 5th year when the “story” dropped.

It started out feeling like a normal day: he woke up, stretched, stumbled out of bed, splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, pulled on some clothes, grabbed his book bag, ignored people’s stares and whispers as he makes his way through the halls to breakfast.

Normal.

It isn’t until he is sitting in front of Ivy (his current plan to get her to stop hating him is to be in her presence as much as possible – he’s not _all_ bad, if she sees him enough she must see that. Right?) and she stops ignoring him, her eyes that were only half-heartedly looking over the newspaper widen and her breath sucks in. Those brown eyes dart to him – not exactly scared but worried. Wordlessly she hand him the paper.

They made front page.

Such a silly first thought. Because, _of course_ they did. They’re Potters - everything that has happened involving the Potters since the day his grandparents died and his father became “The Boy Who Lived” has made front page. The first time the three of them kids were seen in Diagon Alley, him being carried by his mum and Lily and James being pushed by his father in a twin stroller – “their first public appearance!” the caption had read – had even made first page.

His second thought, well, his second thought was _finally_.

Finally they could get out of this horrible holding pattern they had been in for most of their lives. This weird thing where his parent weren’t really complete. Where they were always torn. Where they always had to hide. Where he was never allowed to really talk to anyone outside of the select few who were in the know about this. Always pretending that his parents were like everyone elses.

Then his eyes widened and he pulled his head out of his own ass as he realized he needed to stop thinking about only himself. The others. He had to find the others.

He craned his neck and almost immediately locked eyes with Fred’s. The usual competitive impulses he felt whenever he saw her where pushed down right now, they had other things to deal with. She had the twins with their heads bent together over a newspaper over at the Ravenclaw table with her. She tilted her head towards the door and he nodded. They would gather everyone and then meet up away from all the prying eyes and ears.

Ivy was already getting her things together and he grabbed Montgomery and Hugo who were at the Gryffindor table with them as well.

When he got up he noticed that Fred was already making her way over to the Slytherin table where Rose, V, and of course since V was there - Teddy.

As a group they left the Main Hall. It was eerily silent for breakfast time and the number of students that were present. He could feel their eyes upon them. But they could handle it, they were a team. A solid unit from many Houses. A family.

If anyone tried something they were going fucking down.

***

They holed up in Ivy’s Greenhouse. They all felt a degree of comfort there, being completely out of the castle itself. And both of her parents were gone – Ms. Hannah to the hospital and they had just left Professor Longbottom at the front table. Hugo had thought to grab some toast and sausages before they left and handed them out to everyone to munch on.

All of them gathered around the paper until that just got irritating. Finally, with a huff, Ivy snatched it to the others’ yelps. “It seems they just got the basics,” she said scanning the page, “who’s really with who and all that. They don’t even seem to know how long your parents have been with them.”

“How did they even find out in the first place,” Albus muttered.

“The real question is, how did everyone really keep it a secret for so long. It was bound to get out eventually,” Lily disagreed gently.

James noticed that Fred was staying very quite with Montgomery holding her hand in silent support. She, more than any of them, already knew what it was like for your family to be seen as morally tarnished by society.

Suddenly Ivy let out a startled laugh. “What?,” Rose asked poking her in the side to prompt her when she didn’t answer immediately.

“They couldn’t get a hold of Katie or Angelina for comment, but I guess they found Seamus easy enough since the pub is a public business. They tried to black box censor him and all, but it’s pretty easy to figure out what he said. She cleared her throat putting on her best angry Irish pub owner impression, “Are you shitting me? I’m not answering any questions from the press. I trust you all about as far as I can throw my best friend. He even hand painted sign that says so. It’s lovely. But I suppose being from the Daily Prophet and all, ya wouldn’t be able to read it – you certainly haven’t put much stock in fact checking the shit in your paper before. So if you’re not going to bother to buy anything then just fuck off or I’ll bloody kick you out myself.”

Teddy started cackling first, V – always so cool - following a second later leaning against him, everyone else going off after that and James soon joined. This might be the beginning of a really awfully media firestorm but his father still had an awesome boyfriend.


	24. What We Are Allowed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Blaise had dated models before.

Well, perhaps _dated_ was too strong of a term. But, none the less, he had felt he knew how to approach her. How to properly go about this.

He had first seen the woman as she walked quickly past the Malfoy Dining room where Pansy and him were catching up. (It amused him somewhat that he was chatting with Pansy about her business and new found independence within the manor she would have been the Mistress of, if things had gone differently – once upon a time and all that.) She had barely spared the two of them a glance, her long unbound hair streaming behind her and practically glowing with excitement.

Pansy had off-handedly said that her name was Gabrielle and she was the Weasley’s sister-in-law. He already recognized her as the model he had seen (and seen quite a lot of) in the Viperidae magazines.

Pansy saw the look in his eye immediately. Knew it for what it was. Demanded that he stay away from her.

He didn’t.

Blaise made sure to “accidentally” run into her around Diagon Alley. He smiled charmingly. Told her he was a friend of Pansy’s. Complimented the magazine, her modeling, her beauty.

She seemed to be tolerating him her smile had even turned genuine when he mentioned the magazine. But, when he mentioned her looks it slipped off her face. And when he asked her out she turned him down flat.

So, he tried wooing her. His job did not allow him to do this in person much, instead often he sent her things. Quite often.

The next time he came to visit Pansy at the Manor (and that never stopped feeling bizarre - visiting Pansy at Malfoy Manor and Draco at the Lovegood place), Gabrielle stomped up to him as soon as he entered the door.

“I do not want your flowers. I do not want chocolates. I do not want presents of any kind,” she said stopping to breathe hard though her nose, obviously trying to contain her temper. “I am not playing hard to get,” she intoned in a carefully controlled manner, “I simply do not want to date you.”

Blaise stared at her trying not to get distracted by the fact that her anger made her seem to glow a bit. “Why?,” he asked simply.

“You want me because I am beautiful,” she stated her shoulders sagging, looking suddenly tired (and he could have sworn her glow seemed to dim as well). “I do not want to be wanted because I am beautiful,” she said softly turning her head away.

“Well yeah, I originally wanted to have sex with you because you were hot,” he admitted. “I mean come on Gabrielle, you’re in all of Pansy’s magazines. You _do_ know that most of my male students, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of the girls too, get off to your picture, don’t you?”

Gabrielle looked back at him and gave a somewhat sheepish but knowing grin. She did look a bit less sad though.

“But, I could have bedded a lot of gorgeous girls in the time I’ve spent chasing you. And I mean a lot. Somehow the fact that I’m a teacher now, just adds to all this prettiness,” he pointed to himself and smirked.

“But you said no. You were interesting. You didn’t react like I thought you would. So now, I want you more because you’re different and you tell me I can’t have you than because you’re beautiful. I can get beautiful,” he said truthfully. “I’ve always wanted things I wasn’t allowed.”

Gabrielle stared at him intently before smiling slowly, “I believe that’s the most intriguing thing you have ever said to me.”

“So you’ll go out with me tomorrow night?,” he asked smoothly.

She paused, “I’ll thing about it,” she said and then she left the room. Her body naturally moving gracefully and sensually, the blonde hair of her Veela heritage streaming behind her.

Blaise watched with a small smile on his face. He always wanted what he couldn’t have. But, maybe, maybe he could have this. With her.


	25. Intimidating Marvels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

They pulled them out of Hogwarts (for today at least) – this probably constitutes as a family emergency and he got permission from Luna first. But having two fifteen year olds and two fourteen year olds watch you steadily from the couch is much more intimidating than he thought it would be. Maybe, _this_ is one of the reasons why they really put off telling them for so long.

Harry turns to Ginny for support but she is watching him too, looking faintly amused.

“I don’t know why you’re looking so worried Harry, it’s not like the news article blindsided them. The kids have all known about our relationships since before they got into Hogwarts,” she tells him calmly.

Harry’s breath catches and his eyes dart back to his children who now look like they are trying not to laugh at him as well.

“Did you really think you were _that_ good of a liar, Dad?,” James asks dryly and Fred giggles. For a moment Harry is simply distracted by the fact that they are getting along (through the shared amusement of torturing him, sure. But, getting along none the less).

“I thought it started when Albus and I were seven?,” Lily asked sounding faintly puzzled and then he sees Ginny give a start beside him. Because that _is_ when it began – it had only been about a week after their party when Ginny and him had talked. But she was so young then, how could she have possibly known?

Then Al is biting his lip, “But it wasn’t until later that year, after Ivy’s birthday at least that they started getting more serious.”

“That’s right,” Lily agreed turning to her twin smiling, “but before Christmas.”

And that had been when he began his slow tentative moves to the relationship being something more. If Harry had ever been bad at making friends, he was terrible at everything else. Finally after months of talking and probably horrid attempts at flirting Seamus had – near the beginning of December – asked him what the fuck he was doing. And after that his uncontrollable can’t-shut-up disease had kicked in. Merlin, he loved that disease sometimes (and Seamus’ bluntness). They had pretty much been together (as much as they could in this unconventional set up) since then.

“I,” he hears Ginny say stiltedly through his stunned silence, “that’s about right.”

Oddly, her relationship with Katie and Angelina had progressed more smoothly and quickly than his. But, then again, Ginny had always been more self aware and had probably just set out all of her cards on the table from the get go.

“If it’s been going on for seven years,” James bit out his voice controlled anger and his body tense - and Lily grabs his hand on one side, Fred pressing her leg against his in silent support on the other (and part of him has to marvel at his children – at how they are all _a family_ ), “and _you_ knew that _we_ knew. Or at least thought we did. Why didn’t you ever _talk_ to us?”

“James-“ Ginny starts.

“No,” James says angrily but _anyone_ could hear the hurt as well (Merlin, has he screwed up with all of his kids?). “Don’t,” it comes out as a pained whisper and Albus reaches across Lily to hold his brother’s knee, completing the connection, “don’t _‘James’_ me. Just tell me. Why did you lie to us? Why, didn’t you talk to us? Not at seven, alright? But 10? 12? _15?_ ,” the last is incredulous, “Why?” he repeats.

Harry can only stare. How could he have ever thought his kids wouldn’t understand the situation? All the carefully thought out reasons for not talking to him seem to fly out the window in the face of his childrens’ obvious distress. None of them seem like they made sense in this moment.

“Sometimes,” Fred says in a low voice that seems very loud in the tense room, “sometimes, people don’t mean for lies to be lies. Sometimes you just don’t talk about things and that just gets to be habit over time.”

James’ glare shifts to her and he can practically feel how all that bitter competitiveness and jealousy that had been banked seems to flare. But, the twins’ hands on him tense in warning and Fred holds his gaze steadily. After a moment all the anger seems to drain out of him leaving him partially slumped against his half-sister ( _sister_ ).

Fred turns back to them and asks with obvious trepidation, “What has Grandma Molly said?”

Ginny surprisingly laughs but there is little humor in it, “I actually haven’t heard anything from her yet. The press never got any pictures of us _doing_ anything together so your grandmother probably believes this is just the lie of the week the newspaper is telling about us.”

“When are you going to tell her?,” Albus asks.

And Harry and Ginny both freeze with identical deer in headlight expressions.

“Mom,” James says sitting up straight again with a voice of extreme put on patience, “Dad, you _need_ to tell Grandma. You’re _not_ going to go back to the way things have been,” he crosses his arms. “If you two don’t tell her, _we_ will.”

And seeing all his children - as one - looking at them sternly, Harry doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed (in himself) or proud (of his kids).

He decides to go with proud (for now at least – he knows the self-recrimination will be kicking in hard later).

But that still means there will be a messy, loud, uncomfortable “conversation” with Molly Weasley in the near future.

Damn.


	26. Not So Hard To Read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Susan angrily shouldered her way in to the bookstore and absentmindedly made her way to the familiar area near the back. This place was a bit off the beaten path but it had a section with hard to find books that were in her field. And, best of all, it was far far away from the castle.

She knew that her friends where well intentioned and it wasn’t that she was opposed to finding someone to spend the rest of her life with; Susan just didn’t see the need to go out and search for a man. The others might think she was lying, but she actually _did_ feel utterly fulfilled by her job. So, why bother at the moment.

And she knew the argument she got (she had memorized the damn argument by now). From Parvati, from Hermione, from Hannah – how was she ever going to find someone if she didn’t search (if she refused to go out on the blind dates they tried to send her out on). Susan lived and worked in a school. And unless she wanted to try for a romantic relationship with one of the dwindling supply of other single staff members (which she definitely didn’t), she would have to look elsewhere.

Susan sighed, she wasn’t a hopeless romantic and this wasn’t a fairy tale. She might live in a castle, but she certainly wasn’t a princess ( _and in fairy tales peoples’ families didn’t get mostly eradicated by the bad guys in one war only to have the rest taken out by the same group in the next. In fairy tales the good guys win in the end and it actually feels like winning_ ). She knew she couldn’t expect to just run in to the perfect guy for her, real life didn’t work that way….

“I apologize,” a heavily accented voice murmured when, too deep in her thoughts, she bumped into another person in the Ancient Runes section. The large body quickly stepped back a bit out of her way (as much as you could in the narrow isle ways between bookcases).

“No, no entirely my fault..,” she began and trailed off when she looked up and saw Viktor Krum.

She recognized him instantly of course. Not only was he still the most familiar face in Quidditch (‘the Gretzky of Quidditch!’ she had heard an excited Muggle-born student once say) but, Susan still remembered him from when he had been at Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament. She flushed suddenly realizing she had probably looking at him like a gawking fan for a while as he waited for her to simply pass by.

“I-I ‘m sorry for staring, I didn’t expect to see you. I’m friends with Hermione. Was in the same year and House as her,” she said trying to explain herself, at least a bit. He seemed to relax slightly at the other woman’s name (and probably the knowledge that she was not just some star struck fan).

“You vere from Hogwarts ven,” he said simply in that Bulgarian-accented stilted way that, when accompanied by his size, she had found a bit intimidating when she was younger. Susan remembered wondering if it had ever been daunting for Hermione to have all of that tight wound tension, bulk and focused attention on her.

“Yes, I actually teach there now. Runes in fact,” she gestured to the bookshelf with a slight grin.

“Really,” he seemed very interested suddenly, his dark eyes intent. “I have always been fascinated by symbology of all kinds.”

Startled she stared at him for a moment, “But - but you play Quidditch,” she stated questioningly.

His face that she had always thought hard to read, even from a distance seemed suddenly even more blank. “I vam not able to do both?,” he asked evenly.

“No, no,” she said quickly. “I did not mean to imply,” she stumbled over her words. Then she just put her hands over her face and took a deep breath before dropping them to her sides again. She had come into the store in a mood and she had not expected to run into anyone she recognized, especially him - he had barely crossed her mind in years. And now.....“I’ve quite put my foot in my mouth, haven’t I?,” she asked.

But Viktor was smiling at her faintly and his manner seemed to have lost some of its coldness, “It is alright. I vam not angry at you.” He turned a bit away from her and placed his hand on the edge of the bookshelf and touched the spines gently. “It is a point of some irritation for me. I vill always be Viktor Krum “wunderkind” Quidditch player to everyone who sees me.” He looked back at her seriously, “It can be limiting,” he admitted.

“ _And_ you are no longer a child,” she stated only realizing as it came out of her mouth that it could be taken as flirting. And oh, he was an international sports star - she definitely would not be his type. She was blundering all over the place today.

But he let his hand drop and turned to face her fully. “No,” he agreed that small smile back on his face (and perhaps he wasn’t so hard to read), “I vam not.”


	27. Loving and Stable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Charlie doesn’t know how he always seems to be home when these sort of things happen.

He does know that he is in a special position in his family though. That he can say things that needed to be said – to his mother specifically - and than just fuck back off to the reserve in Romania and not have to worry about dealing with her on a day to day basis.

With a sigh he reluctantly enters the kitchen. After awkwardly dropping the bomb that what had been written in the papers was actually _true_ this time, Harry and Ginny had valiantly tried to discuss it. But, after their mother’s subsequent sobbing and incoherent yelling had gone on for more than a few minutes, they had guiltily left claiming they needed to see the kids off before they had to go back to Hogwarts. His father was currently with her – doing the delicate balance of trying to comfort his wife without actually agreeing with her at all.

Charlie took a seat in front of the two of them at the table. His mother didn’t seem to notice, but his Dad made eye contact with him and after a slight smile and grateful nod of understanding, left.

Charlie reached out took his mother’s hands, looked gently into her eyes, and said in the warmest voice he could, “Mom, you’re being really really stupid.”

In shock her tears seemed to stop and she angrily tried to pull her hands away from him. He held on.

“Nobody died,” he noticed her flinch and continued regardless, “nobody is even hurt. They are happier this way,” he intoned slowly. “Why are you doing this?”

“The children,” she said fervently, as if he was the one who didn’t understand something basic, “the children won’t be in a loving stable….”

“Oh, come on,” he dropped her hands to throw his own in the air, “it can’t be stable? George and Lee have been together for years!”

“George is gay, too?” she asked sounding shocked and he dropped his face in to his hands. Because, bloody hell, George and Lee had been together for – how long now? They had probably been a couple before the twins had flown the coop from Hogwarts and had lived together since the War had ended.

“Are you gay?,” she asked narrowing her eyes accusatorily.

Charlie glanced at her through his fingers and said in the most sarcastic voice he could muster, “Yes, Mother, I became gay right this very moment. Out of spite.”

She frowned obviously catching his tone. “How will I get any grandbabies?,” she wailed next, obviously moving on to her next point.

Charlie let his hands fall back to the table and gave her an incredulous look, “You have _seven_.”

“Six,” she said her eyes flaring.

“Mom,” he said trying very hard to be patient. Fred was still a point that was not at all settled in this house - for all that the girl was 15 now. “Harry is either your son or he isn’t you can’t have it both ways.”

She continued to glare at him and after a tired sigh he soldiered on, “Mom, I love you. I’ll _always_ love you. We _all_ will, because you’re _our mother_ ,” he let that sink in for a moment. “But,” he continued, “you have to decide if what you really want is for your family to _be happy_ or for them to do things only _your way_. If you keep acting like this, you’re going to push everyone away,” he got up from the table and kissed her stunned cheek before leaving the room.

In the doorway he couldn’t help but stop for a moment and smirk, “And you shouldn’t worry so much about getting more grandbabies – from what I hear Percy and Pansy seem pretty close to tying the knot.” And with that final shot he left.

Fuck all. He loved his family, but, he couldn’t wait to get away again. He only ended up seeing them a couple times a year and he damn well preferred it that way. His dragons, at least, didn’t have all of this bloody drama going on. And although entertaining at a distance - close up he much preferred the occasional burn and mauling to dealing with this shit.


	28. A Testament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“Padma?,” Dean asked rolling onto his side and placing his hand over the sun on her stomach. He gazed at her seriously, “Would you like to get married?”

And Padma considered this.

She thought of the long nights lying in his bed. First as he was painting her – his eyes studying her intently as she returned the favor with her own calm curious gaze.

Then as his lover. How that transition had happened years ago (something only their little group of leftover DA misfits: Parvati, Seamus, Luna, Susan, Hannah, and Neville - are aware of).

The first time they made love, he touched her tattoos with reverence. He had already noted them all with his eyes, and although he probably wasn’t aware of the meaning behind each and every one of them at that point, he knew _her_. He knew how particular she was. How careful. That everything she did had a reason.

She loved her time with Dean. They were her balance away from the castle. Away from the Wizarding World. Where she could just let go, where they weren’t witch and wizard – she was simply a woman and he was simply a man.

And balance was important to Padma.

They would talk for hours. Some days all they would do was remember. Touching each tattoo as if it accessed a memory and telling each other stories they had already heard a thousand times before.

Sometimes though, they would make eye contact and just know. Just know that today was a day to talk about anything but. A day where the past hung heavily in the air, but the only way to breathe was to ignore it. To fill the room with talk of art, her students, their friends, philosophy, television shows he wanted her to see, the upcoming dinner at his family’s house…

His family, oh, his family. So open and warm. Playfully interrogating her and poking fun at Dean over bringing such a pretty and well-mannered girl home.

Not like her family, with which (aside from the obvious exception of Parvati) she rarely has contact with. ( _The last time she talked to her father he demanded she return home right away - stay out of that dangerous school, and marry a nice Indian boy. Parvati might try to keep up ties, but Padma has long since deemed her chosen family more suitable._ )

She thinks of Luna and Draco, doing fine without a wedding. Harry and Ginny who used their marriage for so long as a cover for their true relationships. Hannah and Neville, the bands on their fingers a testament to the love that is obvious to anyone who even glances at them.

All of these things go through her mind and Dean waits patiently for her answer, used to the way she takes her time to come to a decision.

“Yes,” she smiles at him - her little Mona Lisa smile as he always calls it. “I would.”


	29. Housewarming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

“So, apparently Charlie outed us to my mother,” he yelled to Lee from one of the rooms they used primarily for storage in their house.

“Really now,” Lee yelled back his voice caring easily, “and here _I_ thought that had already happened.”

“I did too,” George admitted as he found the crate he wanted and lugged it out into the living room where Lee was paging through a newspaper, “but, it seems,” he said, now using a more normal voice “that it came up with all the hullaballoo,” he waved at what was in his partners hands, “about Ginny and Harry,” he paused and smirked as he continued the list, “and Seamus and Angelina and Katie.”

Lee made a face at him, “She gave us a housewarming gift. We go to all of your family’s holiday gatherings together”, he said incredulously.

George just gave him a look, “It’s my mother,” he said. He dumped out a bunch of discarded half finished old joke products on the floor, poking around them for a moment before continuing. “We’ve never been the type to make out in public or anything. She probably kept telling herself we were just really good friends or something.”

Lee sighed, “Is it going to cause any problems,” he asked tiredly.

George lips twisted grimly and he gestured again to the newspaper, “I think she’s a bit more distracted by other things at the moment. How bad is it today by the way?” He got off the floor and plopped down next to him on the sofa.

Lee continued to stare at him for a moment. “I am not going to be the one to pick that shit up,” he stated blandly.

“Yes, yes dear. Of course dear,” George set his chin on the other man’s shoulder and grinned unrepentantly. “I made a mess on the floor”, Lee snorted, “and _you_ are stalling”, he poked him in the ribs before just scooting even closer to read with him. “What absolutely horrendous garbage has the wonderfully wacky world of Wizarding media given us today?,” he asked mock cheerfully.

Lee shook the paper obnoxiously for a second before turning it back to the front ( _of course_ , the front page) where it proclaimed “The Golden Trio or The Golden Threesome? – Gryffindor Girls Go Wild!” and a bit further down an _introspective_ piece, “Homosexuality in Potter Marriage – What does this say about the direction of Wizarding Society?”.

And that was just today – the front page three days after the story had hit. Merlin, he didn’t even _want_ to think what had been regulated to back pages.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered in disgust.

“Yep,” Lee said grimly.

A thought hit him for a panicked moment, “They still haven’t gotten to the kids, have they?”

Harry and Ginny – he loved them and supported them (and he had already _known_ about all of this way way prior to the fuck-tacular press getting a hold of it), but, this was their life and they were dealing with the fallout of the world finally finding out. It sucked yeah, but that was how life went. The kids though…

“Nope,” Lee said, “no reporters have gotten in. McGonagall is being super tight about this thing. She is even having the mail to Harry’s kids checked over by their Heads of Houses so that other people don’t try to pressure them in any way.”

George made a face remembering the mail inspections under Umbridge, “Isn’t that a bit…”

Lee gave a heavy sigh and folded the newspaper, setting it down. “It’s the best they can do. You’ve got to remember all the staff that’s there now. They’re all people who adore Harry and Ginny.” He paused and couldn’t help but smile as he continued the rest of the litany, “And Seamus. And Angelina and Katie. But,” he continued seriously again, “they can’t ban students from receiving all news publication. And even if they did, kids would still get letters from their parents telling them - and telling them how to think about it,” he grimaced. “Hogwarts for all that it’s a good school, it becomes its own little enclosed environment and with something like this - that’s not really such a good situation.” He shook his head in frustration, “All they can do is try to protect them as much as possible.”

George slumped against Lee knowing that he was right, “At least they have each other,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Lee smiled into his partners red hair, “they have each other.”


	30. Facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

Feigenbaum was the Master of Chaos.

This was a fact.

(Well, technically it was a fact that he was _named_ Feigenbaum the Master of Chaos. What the title actually meant was up for a debate.)

It was also a fact that only owls, cats, and toads were allowed at Hogwarts – he was none of these things. But, this did not stop the mighty hare.

(It was also debatable if Feigenbaum could strictly be called _a hare_ anymore. While he had indeed started out as a rather ordinary (if oddly housebroken) lepus europaeus, that had certainly changed when he had mistaken the items for disposal at Ollivander’s wand shop for interesting foodstuffs.

Normal brown hares’ eyes didn’t glow red. Normal brown hares didn’t simply turn up where they wished (where they were needed). )

Feigenbaum knew that although protecting his den from invaders was important he also had to look after the growing leveret as well.

He was pleased that he could do both.

With a kick of his mighty back legs Feigenbaum went from the Lovegood living room…..

…..to a hallway of stone.

The Master of Chaos stayed very still for a long moment taking in his surroundings, then after a his meditative twitch of his nose, he started to move.

He traversed the cold, hard landscape carefully – his long ears high and tense. He passed the two that felt of wolf but were friend not predator - they were pressed tightly against each other in an alcove.

Further along, sitting in a window ledge, Feigenbaum found his goal. He stopped and blinked his red glowing eyes for a moment then with a powerful running thrust of his hindquarters…..

…he was suddenly in the lap of a startled Fred Lovegood.

“Oh,” she said almost dropping him, but he trusted his leveret (although the Master of Chaos was aware she had outgrown that name) and after the moment of surprise she cradled him easily in her lap.

“Feigenbaum,” she murmured, smiling and stroking his fur. “How did you know I needed you? I was _just_ feelin’ kinda homesick, ya know?”

He was Feigenbaum. Master of Chaos.

This was a fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: I am aware that you can not apparate in or out of Hogwarts. The Master of Chaos uses other means.


	31. Subsequent Reactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It should be different now.

All of the things written in the newspapers and the subsequent reactions - it should have made a huge change in their lives.

The thing is, it kinda didn’t.

They were already stared at. Whispers already followed them.

Prior to this they had pretty much stuck to their little group of Teddy, Montgomery, Fred, Hugo, V, James, Rose, Albus, Lily, and Ivy because they were the only ones who knew. They were the only ones who could truly speak freely around each other. The fact that the one of the reasons that they continued not to venture to far from each other now was _that_ everyone now knew, was rather ironic.

Honestly, it had started out as Teddy and Montgomery - best friends together in Gryffindor. But, when the next batch of them had come in the year after – well, Teddy, Fred, and Hugo were just _used_ to playing together. And they all adored V. Rose and V bonded tight through Slytherin camaraderie and by the time the story had come out all the Potter kids and Fred had worked through their shit and got along like actual siblings (even if James and Fred were more the competitive brother and sister type). Ivy had meshed in easily from the beginning, her family had already been close with the others’ anyway – especially the Lovegoods.

So, although they were different ages and Houses, they always seemed to gravitate towards each other whenever possible. Studying, hanging out – they had friends outside their little group, yes. But, they were more….friendly acquaintances of sorts. The group was _family_.

It was just so much _harder_ with others. Not just before, about the things that couldn’t be said when other prying ears were around. It was the questions people would ask.

Harry Potter was undoubtedly famous. Luna Lovegood had often scandalously been in the newspapers. But, except for Montgomery (and he got asked anyway because of his association with them), all of their parents had played parts in the War – had participated in the Battle of Hogwarts.

And people would want to know about it. Would ask things. And children - children sometimes had less tact than adults.

 _I heard your mother made her parents forget her. What do you think that’s like?_

 _Has your father ever attacked anyone? Werewolves are filthy creatures you know._

 _Both of your parents lived in the Room of Requirement together? Do you think they had sex in there?_

 _Did your Great Aunt Bellatrix_ really _kill your mother? (and Teddy would stumble and go pale – face, hair, and eyes. Montgomery would glare, put an arm around him and lead him away, leaving the idiot with the wrath of an angry V.)_

The questions might be different at the moment - about Irishmen and lesbians. But, it was still easier just to stick with the people who truly understood.


	32. Contact Dermatitis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It isn’t until she’s fifteen (and he’s 17 – his final year) that he realizes, bloody hell, Ivy’s a girl - a really really pretty girl (who I’m _not_ related to). And then James has to take a hard look back at how he’s treated her over the years.

Before Hogwarts he had seen her a few times, mainly when their families ran in to each other or at gatherings. Or occasionally from across campus, walking around the Greenhouse or the lake (glaring at everyone). But, he hadn’t really spent much time with her.

So, he was completely blown away by the fact that once Ivy entered the castle and was enfolded into their little group she seemed to _hate_ him.

Instantly.

First, he wondered if it was because of Fred - if Ivy hated him out of some sort of solidarity thing. The two of them _were_ close after all. James knew that long before his Dad had connected his own family into one, _their_ families holiday traditions had been intertwined (and still continued to be). But, Fred had seemed just as baffled as he was by her disdain.

Others in his House (the ones he didn’t talk to much. Though, really, outside of Teddy, Hugo, Montgomery – and now Ivy he didn’t feel all that comfortable with his housemates) tried to laughing assure him that it was natural, that that was just “Poison Ivy.”

But, she didn’t act like that with the others – the others in their little group. He was the exception. And it bothered him.

On top of everything else confusing and shitty going on in his life, this bothered him. Because - why didn’t she like him? He hadn’t done anything to her, _had he_? Had he _said_ anything to her?

So, he decided this was something ( _unlike_ everything else) he could work on. He would make her like him. He was a good guy.

Right?

He would be sure to say hello to her whenever he saw her ( _she tried to stomp away from him in the hallways_ ). James offered to help her on her Potions homework ( _affronted, she frowned and told him that she wasn’t going to cheat_ ). He passed her food at the dinner table ( _she glared at him and said she didn't like pudding, although he knew the butterscotch was her favorite_ ). He was careful about the gifts he choose for her each Christmas - painstakingly going through bookshops to find that one on medicinal herbs he had heard her mention to Fred that she had been searching for just so she would _finally_ smile at him when she opened it.

And, and it was all just him trying to be polite. Right?

But, looking back, James realizes he has put more effort into trying to make Ivy like him than he has into all of his girlfriends combined.

And even after the story broke and he feels more free to date - because now there aren’t those secrets lingering everywhere, making him feel as if he was keeping things from people (even though his parents hadn’t even told _him_ at that point). James still finds he doesn’t want to.

Still finds what he wants hasn’t changed.

He still desperately wants Ivy Longbottom to like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 3: Contact dermatitis (the title) is the official name for that rash you get from such things as, you probably guessed it, poison ivy. :)


	33. A Small Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.  
> A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.

It was strange that it was Fred’s 7th year before she was directly faced with death.

But there was no longer War going on and witches and wizards naturally live a very long time. And Mr. Ollivander had lived a very very _very_ long time.

All of her group ( _family/group/family_ ) had offered to come with her ranging from Montgomery - sweetly and repeatedly, Lily - easily, to James - awkward and stiltedly. But, none the less they all meant it. And she turned them all down, this would be something with just her mother and her (and their Draco-dragon). That was enough (although she almost took up James – she doesn’t know if it’s because he’s _trying_ or it’s the old Angel and Spike dynamic that rears up and when he flounders sometimes she just wants to poke him a little).

She already owns a black dress. It’s not the sort of thing she tends to wear, but it had been a gift from Grandmother Narcissa almost two years ago now. And although the other girls might sometimes talk about developing a figure, it’s times like these that she thinks it’s pretty lucky that she has grown more _up_ than _out_ since puberty.

But, standing with an arm around her mother at the burial, Fred wonders if maybe the heavy brocade fabric is tighter on her chest than she originally thought. Or maybe that is just because of what is going through her head. Ollivander (always the wandmaker) has a casket made of a fine wood but she keeps seeing old stone instead - sharp entrancing gems decorating the outside ( _don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch_ ).

A sarcophagus.

And she grips her mother’s waist tighter, closes her eyes, and leans her head against the familiar shoulder because that isn’t even the most disturbing of the thoughts that hit her today. But, she can’t think too hard on the others. She can’t put her problems onto this day of remembrance of a man that was always so kind to both her Mom and her. So, she pushes it down for now and opens her eyes to watch them lower the box with his body in it into the ground.

It will wait.

 

***

 

The next day, after many many assurances Draco-dragon goes into the shop to check on something for just a few hours.

And Fred knows it is probably too soon to talk about this. She can read her mother better than anyone, and under that top layer of calm she is mourning deeply. Ollivander had been a surrogate parent to her. Fred has seen the albums full of smiles, laughter and love that just jumps off the page of a young Luna first with both mother and father. Then, after age nine, all over the world with just her father. She was always so close to both of them. Ollivander had given her back a bit of the last of that that the Death Eaters had tried to steal away.

But, she has to know. Has to know for sure. And her mother has _never_ lied to her.

She finds her sitting in bed staring at an untouched steaming mug of tea her Draco-dragon had given her before he left. Fred slowly climbs into bed beside her and snuggles up close (careful not to disturb the hot liquid) as she has done often in the past.

“Mom,” she whispered quietly, “Mommy, I- I have to ask you something.”

Luna looked up at her daughter slowly, her eyes distant.

“The other Fred,” she balled the sheets together in her hand but kept eye contact, “do you know – do you know if the other Winifred was ever buried?”

Her mother blinked and took a deep breath, she carefully turned for a second setting her mug on the side table. When she unknotted Fred’s hands from the sheets and held them, her hands were unnaturally warm.

“Fred,” she said gently, “you’ve dreamed of blue. “

It was a question not a statement but she nodded with her heart hammering hard in her chest.

“The other Winifred,” her mother said slowly, “was never buried. She was taken over by that blue. It’s name was Illyria. It used Fred’s body…”

“…as a shell,” Fred finished her eyes staring blankly.

“Yes,” her mother said tucking a strand of Fred’s hair behind her ear.

Fred snapped back into the present at the touch and she started a panicked babble, “So, she- her body was just burnt out on the inside and used by this - this _thing_. She never got to die. She never got to leave. She never got to….”

Her mother released her hands and grabbed the sides of her face, “Shh, shh, my Sunbeam,” she soothed and the serenity her mom wore like a cloak seemed to drape over her as well. “It was just her body. The vessel. Once she died – she was dead. Her soul wasn’t burnt up – souls don’t work like that. Her soul got to escape.” She let her hands slide down to Fred’s shoulders, “And you know where that soul went dear.”

Fred’s eyes went very wide as she gazed into those of her mother. She did know. This was knowledge that didn’t feel new or unexpected. The dreams. The memories – they _were_ memories. It had always just been unsaid but had always been right there deep inside her.

“But what about _my_ soul,” she asked in a broken whisper, “I mean, the soul this body was _meant_ to have.”

Her mother’s smile was patient, “She wasn’t like Illyria dear – you _know_ that, she wasn’t going to force anyone else out. Babies are born that need souls and the other Fred - well it was decided that her time had been cut well before it’s due.”

“So,” Fred asked after a pause, biting her lip and looking down, “I’m just her do-over?”

“No,” her mother said and Fred’s eyes flew back up surprised by the steel in her voice, “you _are not_ her do-over. You _are not_ Winifred Burkle. _You_ are Winifred Lovegood. _You_ are _my daughter_. You are the biological daughter of Harry Potter. You have your Draco-dragon. And your Uncle George, and Uncle Lee, and Aunt Hannah, and so many others that it would take forever and a day to say them all,” she smiled before turning serious again. “You have _your own_ family. You make _your own_ friends. You are _your own_ person. You make _your own_ decisions.”

She leaned forward until their foreheads touched, “ _You_ are _your own_ Fred.”

After a long breathless moment she leaned back on the pillows again and picked up her tea. In her usual dreamy voice she asked, “Do you understand, Sunbeam?”

She stared at her mother ( _her_ mother, the other Winifred hadn’t had Luna Lovegood as a mother. That alone must have made a difference). “Yes, I understand,” she said calmly settling on the pillows as well.

She was Winifred Sola Lovegood.

And her family was kinda awesome.


End file.
